


LOVE'S FIERY TEMPEST ARC 3: In The Realm of the Emir

by roryheadmav



Series: LOVE'S FIERY TEMPEST [3]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Desert romance, Highlander - Freeform, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-09-08
Updated: 2001-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-06 00:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 86,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roryheadmav/pseuds/roryheadmav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos has finally reached the realm of the Emir. What horrible mysteries lie in that secluded desert kingdom? Will he be able to save his beloved concubine from a fate worse than death?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

 

A week passed -- seven precious days spent making the remaining trek to the Emir's realm at the oasis of Ain Mehira in the Tanezrouft, one of the smaller deserts of the Sahara. Thankfully, the caravan, except for Joseph and Khassim, had gone ahead with their Master, his two generals and his precious concubine. With nothing to hinder their movements, with the notable exception of Moeru's tiny cart to help the colt make the journey, the three men crossed the distance in record time.

It was around two to three hours close to midnight when the three men entered the gates of the Emir's kingdom. The servants came forward to take away their horses. One attempted to take the colt, but Moeru hastened to the Ancient's side, sticking close to Methos's leg like a large fly.

"He stays with me," Methos ordered, caressing the colt's head in reassurance.

One of the guards approached them and bowed. "Sir," he addressed Joseph, "the Master has instructed me to tell you that you are to escort our guest to his chamber near the west wing of the Palace. Our Lord will be indisposed this eve and will, instead, attend to you tomorrow."

"Indisposed, my ass," Methos mumbled, with a snort. "He's probably fucking his whore."

"Excuse me, sir?" the guard asked, frowning.

Khassim came forward. "It's nothing, young man. "Come! Show me to the military quarters and tell me what has happened here in the years that I've been gone." He bowed to his companions. "Good evening, Joseph, Methos."

As the two men left, Joseph motioned to the Ancient. "You heard my instructions. Let me take you to your chamber."

Entering the Palace, they walked through torch-lit hallways, the servants and guards bowing to them as they passed by. Methos surveyed his surroundings with a critical eye. Despite its garish, rather tasteless, opulence, the Palace was built like a fortress. One could easily get lost in its twisting hallways and numerous rooms. There was something about the Palace's construction that disturbed him greatly. He just could not put his finger on it.

Methos's chamber was a spacious room, containing everything that he would need. Weapons, blades shining like brand new, were arranged on a rack. There was a bookcase where various tomes were laid as well as some dusty scrolls. For his writing convenience, there was also an escritoire with quills, paper and a bottle of ink. Probably informed about the colt, one of the servants had placed a tiny cot for Moeru.

Laying his pack on the chest at the foot of the large bed, the Ancient turned to the scribe. "I want to see Duncan."

"Are you out of your mind?" the scribe exclaimed. "You'll get us all killed!"

"No, I won't. Joseph, you know the ins and outs of this Palace. You know how I could see Duncan without being seen myself."

"I won't agree to this lunacy. For once, please heed Duncan's words."

But Methos stubbornly shook his head. "Even Duncan himself knows that I am my own master. If my guess is correct, Duncan will be in Kronos' chamber. So, are you going to show me, or do you want me to bang on every door in this place?"

Saying this, the Immortal headed straight for the door. Joseph stopped him.

"No!" said the scribe. "I'll show you the way."

As Methos looked on, Joseph pushed a stone in the wall. At once, the wall slid back, revealing a small tunnel. Before the Ancient could step inside, the scribe blocked his path with his outstretched arm.

"Before we proceed," Joseph began, "you must swear to me that you will keep silent, especially when we reach the Royal Chamber. You will see things inside that room, unspeakable acts that could arouse your anger. You'll know the kind of hell Kronos has been putting everyone through, especially poor Duncan."

Methos's jaw hardened. "I swear it." He gazed down at Moeru. "I want you to stay here, little one."

The colt quickly shook his head.

"Don't argue with me! This is a perilous place. It would break Duncan's heart if anything should happen to you. Please, for your safety, I beg you to stay."

Reluctantly, Moeru sat down at the opening, lower lip jutting out in a pout. Methos patted the obedient colt on the brow. "Thank you. I promise I'll tell you how he is when I return." The Ancient turned to the scribe. "Let's go."

At these words, Joseph entered the tunnel first, the Immortal following him. It was a rather tight squeeze, allowing them only to walk in single file. The tunnel ended in a small room. To Methos' surprise, he found himself facing a window, overlooking the  
Royal Chamber. He could clearly see the bed, though silk screens and curtains covered it. From his position, the Ancient knew he was looking through the mirror hanging on the wall. There were two men in the chamber. Caspian was standing by the bed, with a goblet  
in his hand. Judging from his flushed face, he was drunk. Silas sat Lotus position in the far corner of the room, arms folded over his chest, waiting.

"How come they don't sense me?" the Ancient asked, frowning.

"A curiosity of this place," the scribe answered. "I don't understand it myself. There are…stories…about this Palace, but they are better told at a later time."

"Where's Kronos?"

Before Joseph could reply, a booming voice declared, "Where have you been, my sweet pet? I've been looking all over for you!"

Then, Kronos, the Emir of Ain Mehira, appeared from the left side of the glass, whirling around and around with Duncan trapped in a bear hug. To Methos's shock, as Kronos set the whoremaster down, he struck the young man hard in the face. Duncan fell to the ground. There were flecks of blood on the floor. Methos knew that the concubine was bleeding from his mouth.

"I told you I don't want to be kept waiting," the evil ruler said ominously. "And why this veil again? I told you not to wear this in my presence." Kronos reached down and tore off the veil from the concubine's face. Perhaps out of habit, Duncan's hands flew up to cover his face, but it only caused the Immortal's anger to rise. "I told you I want to see your face! Don't disobey me, whore!"

Those words caused a chill to go up the Immortal's spine that he closed his eyes. He himself knew that those words were a prelude to terrible brutalities.

Sure enough, Methos heard a sharp crack followed by an agonized cry, causing him to open his eyes once more. His eyes widened in horror, seeing Kronos with a whip in hand. Mercilessly, he hit Duncan's back. With each descent of the whip, the concubine's robes were torn, bleeding welts forming on his skin. At the first four and five lashes, the whoremaster would cry out. But later, he could no longer utter a sound. He just lay on the floor, his breath coming out in shuddering gasps.

"Bastard!" Methos hissed in fury. "That damned bastard!" Unsheathing his spear, he was about to break the mirror, but Joseph grabbed his wrist.

"No!" the scribe whispered furiously. "You'll only make things worse!"

The Immortal argued. "I can't let him do this to Duncan!"

"Why should you care, Methos? Haven't you hurt Duncan yourself in exactly the same manner?"

Pushing the Ancient against the wall, Joseph pointed to the horrific scene, taking place inside the chamber. Kronos had lifted the helpless concubine, unmindful of the poor man's feeble cries of pain, and threw him onto the bed. He then straddled the whoremaster, the whip still in his hand. As Caspian and Silas watched and laughed,  
the cruel ruler thrust the handle of the whip inside the concubine's ass.

"Take a good look!" Joseph wept. "See yourself in Kronos! You are no worse than he is! You're both monsters!"

Methos felt the tears trickle down his cheeks as he watched Kronos ravish Duncan. When he was through, he let his Brothers have a turn on the concubine's battered flesh. To his horror, though the Horsemen, Caspian in particular, defiled him in every perverse way they could think of, the concubine bore the abuse in silence. It seemed to Methos that the whoremaster was a sacrificial lamb being savaged by a pack of wolves.

There was a horrified whinny at their feet. Methos swiftly knelt down and shut Moeru's snout with his hand before the colt could utter another sound. Moeru struggled to break free, but the Ancient hugged him tight to his chest.

"Hush, Moeru! We can't do anything to help him now!" whispered Methos. "Just turn away! Don't look!"

Minutes turned to hours. Methos had frozen where he knelt, holding a crying Moeru, his eyes riveted to the perversions taking place inside the room. He knew that Duncan's defilement will forever be etched in his memory. Joseph could only sit on the floor and pray for the poor concubine.

The sun was high up when the Horsemen departed from the chamber, leaving Duncan hanging from a set of slings, his body limp, bruised and bloodied.

"You must go now, Methos," said Joseph sadly. "I will tend to Duncan."

"No!" Pressing his palms to the mirror, Methos asked, "How do I get in there?"

"Methos, please!" the scribe begged him. "Duncan would not like you to see him like this. He has no idea that you already know who he is."

"I have already seen more than I should and I did nothing! I must get in there! Duncan needs me!"

Before Joseph could argue, the Immortal pushed hard on the glass. The wall gave way immediately, revealing a secret passage into the chamber. As Methos hurried towards the bed, he barely heard Joseph call out his name. All his attention was focused on the broken form hanging on the slings.

Duncan must have heard Joseph's cry or seen the shadow from behind the curtains. When Methos came into view, the concubine let out a mewling cry, desperate to hide his face, but too weak to do so.

At that small sound and his feeble efforts to conceal his features, the Ancient realized that the whoremaster would be more devastated if he were to find out that Methos already knew who he truly was. As he came closer, his shocked hazel, however, were focused on the damage done to that golden skin. The ugly welts all over Duncan's body revolted him. There were bite marks around his nipples. Over his thigh was a dusky handprint. He was bleeding profusely from his ass.

Seeing the veil on the floor, Methos picked it up. Duncan quickly turned away and whimpered as the Immortal lifted his head from the sling. When the Ancient's finger accidentally brushed against his cheek, the whoremaster's hands flew to his face.

"Don't be afraid," said Methos soothingly, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm just going to put the veil on you. I'm not going to look at your face."

Carefully, the Immortal wrapped the veil around the concubine's head. Duncan slowly withdrew his hands from his face. His trembling fingers found the cloth and pulled it down, clutching it tightly.

With a concerned whinny, Moeru galloped towards Duncan, desperate to reach his beloved master hanging above him.

The sight of the little colt caused the concubine to break into new tears. For the first time, he spoke hoarsely, "Moeru? Is that you? Is it really you, Moeru?"

Methos pulled out a knife. "Don't move! We'll get you down." He cut through the ropes of the slings. As the whoremaster settled into the Immortal's arms, Duncan let out a weak cry of pain.

"I'm sorry," Methos said. "I'm going to lay you down on the bed."

As he did so, the concubine whimpered. Sitting down beside the older man, Methos patted Duncan's hand and eased Moeru beside him. The whoremaster embraced his dear little friend.

"Joseph, fill that basin with warm water, will you?" the Immortal turned to the scribe. "He needs to be cleaned."

Joseph hastened to do Methos's bidding. He then carried the basin and laid it on the table, handing a washcloth to the Immortal. As he looked on, Methos began cleaning Duncan's body.

"Khassim has some salves," the scribe suggested. "They might be of some help."

"Yes, please," agreed the Immortal. "Bring them to me, and any medicine or herbs you might find."

The scribe nodded, "I'll be right back," and headed for the door. Suddenly, he paused, looking at the Ancient. Softly, he said, "Methos…"

"Don't worry," Methos assured him, continuing with his work. "I'll take care of him."

Giving the Immortal one last dubious glance, Joseph hurried off to Khassim's chamber, closing the door behind him.

As he continued tending to the concubine's wounds, Methos declared, wanting to sound cheerful, though his heart was breaking, "Well, Shinno, it's just you and me."

 

Methos had no idea that Duncan was watching him suspiciously, with a little fear in his heart, his grip tightening around Moeru's neck.

Why is he doing this? the whoremaster asked himself. Why is Methos being so kind to me all of a sudden? A thought suddenly crossed his mind, filling him with dread. Maybe...maybe he wants to bed me.As a tear fell down his cheek, Duncan bit his lower lip.Why doesn't he just get on with it?

When Methos raised the wet cloth again to clean the wound on his chest, the concubine took his wrist. The Immortal looked at him curiously. Holding his hand, Duncan brought both their hands down. He winced as he raised his legs, spreading them wide apart. Stifling the sob that was rising up in his throat, he laid Methos's fingers over the bleeding orifice between his legs.  
&lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;  
&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;

The Immortal was stunned to silence. He could not believe what Duncan just did. But the blood and semen on his fingertips brought him back to his senses. That, and the weary resignation in the younger man's body.

"NO!" Methos pulled his hand back as if he were burned, standing up from the bed.

Then, the whoremaster burst into tears, his body shaking as he wept.

"Shinno?" the Ancient whispered, not knowing whether he should call back Joseph or wrap his arms around the distraught concubine.

Instead, he knelt beside the bed, clasping his hands together like a supplicant.

"Is…is that what you think of me, Shinno?" asked Methos, crying himself. "That I would want to...bed...you, even after what Kronos did to you?"

This caused Duncan to weep harder, realizing that the Immortal had seen him being abused. "Why? Isn't this what you want?"

"No! I don't want this!"

"But you hurt me before, just like this!"

"Joseph's right!" Methos said bitterly. "I am a monster, just like Kronos! In my anger and desire for revenge, I lost track of who I am. Alexa, my dead wife, she's probably turning in her grave right now in rage, knowing what I did to you."

The Immortal took the concubine's hand. "How can I say 'I'm sorry'? How can I ask for your forgiveness, after all the terrible things I did to you, the way I toyed with your feelings for me? You have every right to hate me. Gods, I hate myself! Shinno, I won't ask you to forgive me. Forgiveness is earned, along with trust. I swear I won't hurt you ever again. Let the next Immortal take my head if I can't keep my promise to you."

Weeping in anguish, Methos pressed Duncan's hand to his lips and kissed it over and over again.

 

Duncan looked sorrowfully at the Immortal kneeling beside his bed. Methos was kissing his hand, in remorse, his tears wetting his fingers. His heart ached for him to say the words that would bring peace to the younger man's anguished soul. I forgive you, Methos. It is I, Duncan. After all this time, I still love you. Already, his left hand was rising, wanting to soothe the Immortal's ravaged brow. But Duncan stifled the urge, clenching his left hand into a fist at his side.

How could I believe you, Methos, thought the concubine in despair, when all you've done is hurt me?

 

Methos stayed with Duncan for two hours, tending to his wounds with the salves that Joseph and Khassim had brought for him and simply watching until he had at last fallen into deep sleep. Although he was tempted to gaze fully at the younger man's beauty, the Ancient suppressed the urge to peel off the veil. Instead, he bent down and kissed the concubine on the forehead. Picking up a snoring Moeru, Methos exited through the  
mirror. There was no need for Kronos to know that he had been here. He feared what the Horseman might do if he learned that the Ancient had been with his precious whore.

It was most unfortunate, however, that as Methos closed the mirror entrance and walked off, he did not bother to look back. Another door behind the dresser opened and a huge grotesque figure stepped inside the chamber, quietly padding over to the sleeping concubine on ash gray bare feet.

As the bed was neared, a gray, clawed hand reached out and gently pulled the blanket away from Duncan's naked form. With a wave of its hands, first one, then two, then three, then four, movements so quick that one could not tell just how many appendages there were, it healed the bruises on the whoremaster's body, leaving him whole again.

For several minutes, it stared at the beauty of the concubine. Again, it raised its hand, eager to caress that golden skin.

Suddenly, its fingers encountered an energy barrier that sent electricity jolting through his arm. It let out a snarl of surprise and pain. It thought that this…force…would've diminished with the passage of time and the number of lovers that this luscious mortal had through the years. But it was much stronger now. Peering at Duncan with its 'other' sight, it saw that the whoremaster's soul remained pure. True, his body was tainted. His spirit, however, remained unsullied, defying any attempts to have it stained or broken.

It let out a frustrated growl. For so long, it craved to sate its dark lust upon the concubine's body. It would have to wait again. For how long, it did not know, but the wait was killing it.

There was a soft whimper from Duncan's lips. A smile formed on its face, seeing the mortal's hands descend to probe the orifice between his legs and stroke his rising shaft.

A tear trickling from his right eye, Duncan fondled and pumped himself to an explosive release, whispering one name over and over again. "Methos…Methos…"

It nodded in satisfaction. It looked like it did not have long to wait after all. This concubine's beautiful body and his chaste soul would belong to it.

All it would take just one small wish from those luscious lips. Just one small wish.  



	2. Chapter 24

 

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

 

Before he could go and visit his patient, a guard came to Methos' chamber to escort him to the Throne Room. Despite his reluctance to be reunited with his Brothers again, he feared that they might discover that he had been with Duncan last night. Only through Joseph's shrewd thinking that his visit to the concubine was kept a secret.

Pausing before the doors of the Throne Room as the guard hastened to announce his arrival, a deep frown furrowed Methos' brow. As Joseph had told him, he could not sense the presence of the Immortals whom he knew waited for him within. This strange quirk of the Palace disturbed him greatly. Dark magic was involved; he was sure of it.  
Perhaps, if he were to learn more about the Palace, he would be able to unravel the mystery surrounding this place.

Methos snapped out of his musings when he heard the guard declare, "Your guest, my Lord."

"Show him in," was the cool reply.

The Ancient entered the room, as the doors were closed behind him. Caspian and Silas stood on either side of the throne, on which sat the smiling form of the Emir of Ain Mehira, Kronos. Seeing him, broad smiles formed on the faces of the two burly men.

"After so long..." Kronos whispered. "Methos!"

"Brother, it is you!" Silas declared happily. The Horseman strode towards the Immortal and crushed him in a bear hug.

"It's so good to see you too, Silas!" Methos could barely hide the happiness in his voice. Of the three Horsemen, he liked Silas the most.

A heavy hand patted his shoulder. Turning, Methos saw that it was Caspian, giving him a grin that was not exactly sane. It was Caspian who the most unstable of them all.

Still, the Ancient managed a smile, saying, "You haven't changed a bit, Caspian."

"It is you who have changed," Caspian noted. "You seem to have lost some of your edge."

Kronos, at last, stood up and remarked, "Love and domesticity can do that to any man." There was a hint of a smile on his lips as he approached the three men. "It's been a long time, Methos. I thought you had forgotten us. All those wonderful nights we shared…"

" I've been...preoccupied."

"I heard you got married."

"That wasn't all you've heard. Otherwise, you would never have sent for me, even if you knew I was your sworn enemy."

"I just thought I'd give you a little distraction from your grief." Kronos crossed his arms over his chest and grimaced. "I never figured I'd give you more than you bargained for."

Methos simply shrugged. "It certainly proved very interesting, and it had a few rewards."

"From your words, I could see that you enjoyed the company of my concubine."

"You could say that. He's full of surprises, your Little Whore, Shinno."

Kronos burst into laughter. "Is that what he's calling himself now? Nice name -- 'Shinno.' Probably the name given to him by his teacher. Never did I imagine that my sweet whore would be able to learn the martial arts. I watched his duel with Kamir from the plateau. Very impressive. I've noted that he has inculcated your style as well."

Another shrug. "You know there's nothing I won't do for money and other services. Shinno offered me both. It made for quite interesting evenings."

"But he has taken to wearing that damned veil again. From that, I supposed you've never seen his face."

"Unfortunately, no." It was partly a lie. If it were not for the journal with Mikey's corrections, he would never have known what Duncan looked like. Methos did not even get a good look at the whoremaster's face last night in the Royal Chamber. The Ancient went on, "It was one of his conditions -- that only you are privileged to view his beauty.  
Besides, what need have I for a pretty face when I have the inner heat of his nether orifice to sheathe my blade into."

There was a fiendish grin on Caspian's face. "Too bad you haven't seen his face. You would've been very surprised."

"Not to worry," said Silas in reassurance. "We have all the time to now enjoy Kronos' whore. It's going to be like old times, Caspian. Not only shall we share this delightful concubine's lovely flesh, but also the great rewards that his skills as a whore could give us."

Methos frowned at that remark. "I don't understand."

Kronos laid a heavy hand on the Ancient's shoulder. "All will be explained in due time." He slowly led Methos towards the door. "For now, as Silas said, it shall be like old times. Let bygones be bygones, my friend, for you are now one of us once more. All that I own shall also be yours, including my whore. I will also allow your continuing his training in the martial arts as well. I do agree that it would make for very interesting nights to bed a whore who knows how to give a good fight."

Pausing at the door, Kronos pulled Methos into his embrace and gave him a heated kiss. Methos tried hard not to show his revulsion, going so far as to return the Horseman's kiss and embrace with equal ardor.

Kronos broke the kiss, a smile forming on his flushed lips. "I've completely forgotten how good you were at this, Methos. Such a pity that we have important...business...to attend to for the next five days. The matter of the kingdom and a few..." The Horseman gestured wildly, waving his hands in the air. "A little abracadabra and that kind of stuff. Like I told you earlier, I'll explain everything to you when the time comes." Opening the door, Kronos requested, "Please take care of my little concubine for me. After five days, it would please me greatly if we were to catch up on old times."

Methos gave the evil ruler a courteous bow. "It would please me as well. Send for me when you are available."

"Yes," Kronos nodded. "I'll do that."

As the ancient stepped outside, the Horseman closed the door behind him. With long strides, Methos walked down the hallway, but his mind whirled with the memory of his exchange with the Emir.

'Abracadabra'? What the hell is that devil up to? thought Methos worriedly. And what would this mean for Duncan?

 

A very happy Moeru leaped on Duncan's bed and cuddled close to him. Before the concubine could stop the enthusiastic colt, Moeru had nuzzled Duncan's robe open, smacking his lips on a tiny nipple.

Groaning, the whoremaster gave the suckling colt a vigorous rub on the brow, which did nothing to dislodge Moeru from his tit.

"Moeru," Duncan growled, "is it really this impossible for you to be weaned?"

"You're looking well," Joseph could not help but comment, grinning broadly. "A miraculous recovery!"

At that remark, the whoremaster gave him a wry smile. "If you're going to start again about my having an Immortal's constitution, I'm sorry but you're wrong. Although the bruises have disappeared, I still feel a lot of aches in my body." Easing himself to a more  
upright position, he winced at the pain in his side. "Please tell Khassim thank you for his salves."

The Watcher laid the tray with the bowl of soup and a cup of water on the table. Although Duncan was capable of eating by himself, Joseph insisted on feeding him.

Giving the whoremaster a spoonful of soup, the scribe casually remarked, "It looks like all that tender, loving care last night did you a whole lot of good."

Duncan gagged at that comment. He burst out coughing. Joseph gamely patted his back. When his throat was cleared, he scowled at the scribe.

"And what pray tell brought that comment on?" queried the concubine.

"You must admit Methos did take good care of you. Khassim and I could hardly send him away last night. He just wanted to stay at your side."

Duncan let out a most undignified snort. "He's just guilty, that's all. Once I'm well, you'll see how quickly he would want to stick his rod inside my body."

"I don't think so," argued Joseph. "Methos is...different...now." The scribe hesitated. "Rashad told me that Methos proposed to you."

"So what if he had? He just did it on the spur of the moment. Even if Methos had been serious with his offer of marriage, just like Kamir, just like Kronos, he would have made me his whore."

The Watcher looked at Duncan meaningfully. "Do you know that Methos wanted to save you last night? If I hadn't stopped him, he would have gone crashing through the glass and killed his Brothers right on the spot."

The whoremaster's eyes grew round with alarm. "Did he see my face?"

"No, he didn't. And don't change the subject!"

"Why are you suddenly on his side, Joseph? Has Methos cast a spell on you that you're now his staunch defender?"

"No!" Joseph shook his head. "It's just that...you haven't seen how furious he was, how helpless he looked that he couldn't rescue you. When he was tending to your wounds, Methos wept, tormented by guilt."

"I'm glad his conscience is troubling him!" Duncan exclaimed bitterly. "You tell me how much he wanted to save me, how he cares for me? You haven't seen the look on Methos' face during the many times that he raped me. He would smile and laugh, happy to see me hurting and weeping. You haven't seen the look on his face when he accused me of being a traitor. What does a child know of betrayal, when he sacrificed himself, just so that his beloved mentor would not be hurt by his own Brothers? Tell me, Joseph! Why should I feel guilt when he had hurt me so much?"

For a while, there was silence between the two men. Duncan had turned his face away, not wanting the Watcher to see the anger on his face. He heard Joseph give a weary sigh as he picked up the food tray. The whoremaster thought that the scribe had already left him alone.

Then, Joseph spoke from the doorway, and his comment stunned him to the core of his being.

"Duncan," the Watcher began, choosing his words carefully, "I never said you should feel guilty about Methos."

When Joseph was finally gone, Duncan found himself holding his right hand, the same hand that Methos held on to and kissed last night. Pressing his hand to his lips, the concubine gave in to his tears, his whole being in turmoil from the battle between his desire for revenge and the needs of his heart.

Suddenly, the subject of his troubled thoughts called outside his door. "Are you presentable, Shinno? May I come in?"

"Wait!" Duncan hastily wiped the tears from his eyes and wrapped the veil around the lower half of his face. "All right. You may enter."

Opening the door, Methos ambled towards the bed, his eyes widening in surprise, noting the absence of bruises on the concubine's skin. "If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed what Joseph had told me. I know you're a fast healer, but you didn't heal this fast when we were still in the desert. It's almost like the  
healing of an Immortal, or...magic."

Duncan sighed as he hugged Moeru. "Like I told Joseph, I'm still not feeling very well. I could feel pain in the places where they hit me." The young man gestured to his lower belly. "The pain here...it still hasn't gone away."

Sitting on the bed, Methos tapped the colt's rump. "Move over a bit, horse."

As the colt complied, the Ancient declared, more to the horse's benefit than the whoremaster's, "Maybe you should think about weaning him."

Duncan pinched Moeru's nose playfully. "I tried, but he's hopeless." The concubine grimaced as Methos pressed on his lower abdomen.

"I'm sorry," Methos raised his hand abruptly.

"No, it's all right. Please continue."

Gently, the Immortal pressed down again and started to massage the whoremaster's belly with firm, circular strokes. Duncan leaned on the pillows, relaxing at the older man's touch.

"So what brings you here, Methos."

"I'm concerned about you."

"What they did to me last night...it wasn't new to me. I'm used to that kind of treatment, because I'm a..."

"A whore. You always say that."

"That's what I am. Nothing's going to change that."

A frown formed on the Ancient's forehead. "That doesn't sound like the Shinno I knew."

"It's over. I'm back in this...this prison."

"Maybe not. Kronos gave me permission to continue your training. He was very impressed with the way you defeated Kamir."

A bitter laugh escaped Duncan's lips. "Impressed? He just wants a feisty whore. Nothing pleases him more that to see me fight him or his Brothers before they fuck me. The thrill of conquest! That's all it is!"

Methos reluctantly nodded. "To them, perhaps, but not for me, and definitely not for you." The Ancient withdrew his hand. "Don't you want to be free, Shinno? What about your dream?"

Duncan looked at the Immortal with suspicion. "Why would you want to see me free? Here, with your Brothers, you could share my flesh, bed me any time you wish."

Sadness crossed Methos's handsome features.

Noting the change in the older man, Duncan offered softly, "I apologize. I didn't mean to be rude."

"Do you know the words to the wedding vows, Shinno?"

That sudden, unexpected question caught the concubine off-guard.

"When I was about to marry Alexa, I never could remember the words. Wedding jitters I suppose. Let me see…"

Duncan let out a startled gasp when Methos placed his hand over his. He gazed into the Ancient's face to see if the move was deliberate, but Methos's eyes were closed, lost in deep thought.

"I, Methos," the Immortal solemnly intoned, "shall take you, Shinno, to be my lawfully wedded spouse, to have and to hold, to love and honor, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part."

"Methos…" the whoremaster was unable to say more, his cheeks turned pale. Did he just…Surely I'm not engaged to him! But the vows…that oath…

A bright smile lit up Methos's face that Duncan felt his breath catch in his throat. The Ancient, however, caressed the brow of the still suckling colt.

"What do you say, Moeru?" Methos teased the colt. "Would you like me to be your Papa?"

Moeru released his seemingly perpetual hold on the concubine's nipple to give the Immortal a toothy grimace of disgust.

Methos laughed at that face. "Come now, Moeru! Surely you're still not considering marrying Shinno! I've already beaten you to it, and I didn't hear a single word of complaint."

At that last, Duncan's lovely brown eyes grew wide in alarm. "You WHAT? But that wasn't real. You were just reciting the vows. You didn't mean it!"

But the Ancient simply ignored the concubine's startled utterances, as he continued speaking with the attentive horse.. "Think about it, Moeru! If I'm your Papa…well, since I'm not such a big proponent of weaning and I firmly support the need for breast feeding, I could let you suckle on Shinno every time you wish."

"Now, wait just a minute!" the whoremaster blurted out. "You don't have a say in this matter! It's my nipples you're talking about and…"

Before Duncan could say anything else, his words were smothered by Methos' passionate kiss. Despite his apprehensions over the Ancient's intentions, the concubine found himself succumbing once more to the call of his heart. Slowly, he placed his hands around Methos's neck, about to lean into the kiss.

"OWWW!" Duncan felt teeth nip on his other tit. Looking down, he saw that Methos had actually pushed Moeru so close to the concubine, that the colt's head was tucked comfortably under the younger man's robe.

Laughing, Methos exclaimed, "Enjoy yourself, Moeru!"

Moeru pulled his head out of Duncan's robe to give the Ancient a delighted whinny of gratitude, quickly pushing his head back in before the whoremaster could yank his robes close.

"METHOS!" Duncan snarled at the older man, who leaped out of his grasp and headed for the door.

Pausing before it, the Immortal turned around and looked the concubine straight in the eye. "Those vows I spoke…I meant every word, Shinno. I hope that I could regain your trust, so that I could hear those same vows from your lips."

"Trust…but what about love?"

Again, there was that sad little smile. "We both know what is inside our hearts."

Without saying another word, Methos walked outside the door, closing it quietly behind him.

Moeru felt something wet drip on his coat. He gazed up to see tears streaming from the concubine's eyes.

With a soft sob, Duncan embraced the colt's neck. "I'm so afraid, Moeru. Methos is right. I DO love him, but how could I possibly give my heart to someone who has hurt me so many, many times? Who could hurt me again! But I love him, Moeru.! God, I must be crazy, but I love the man who will most certainly break my heart over and over again!"

 

Unknown to the whoremaster, Methos was still standing outside the door. The Immortal heard every anguished word that the younger man said.

Tears welled up in his green gold eyes eyes as well, realizing how deeply he had hurt the concubine.

"It won't happen again, Duncan. I swear I won't break your heart," Methos muttered in determination. "Let the gods take my soul and condemn me to an eternity in Hell if I should hurt you again."


	3. Chapter 25

 

**CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**

 

"HAIIII!"

That fierce cry was followed by a loud crash as Methos slashed the pot hanging from a rope tied to the ceiling. With a great spiraling leap, the Ancient broke four more pots, sending the clay pieces falling to the ground. There was a smug smile on Methos's face as he landed on the floor, katana in hand. It has been so long since he had handled a curved blade, preferring his trusty spear above any weapon. He was pleased to see that he had not lost his touch.

"Is that the best you can do?" That snide baritone voice echoed in the sudden silence of the training salle.

Whirling around, Methos saw a swift figure leap into the air, followed by the flash of a sharp sword being unsheathed. Like a spinning top, Duncan let his sword slice through the pots, cutting them in half like melons. The half-moons of clay, one by one, began to fall, breaking on the ground. The Immortal had to duck out of the way lest the pots fall on his head.

"WATCH IT!" Methos cried out as one pot missed him by a few inches.

However, as the concubine floated down, one of the pots smashed on his leg. The pain broke Duncan's concentration that he plummeted to the ground.

Quickly, Methos leaped high, catching the whoremaster easily in his arms. He saw Duncan's eyes narrow in a wince when his left hand gripped his side. As he set the older man down, the Ancient grimaced, seeing how Duncan favored his aching ribs and tried to  
steady himself on a lame leg. Looking the concubine from head to toe, it was obvious to him that his student was not in his usual form.

"Shinno," Methos demanded, "what the hell are you doing here?"

"I thought we were going to continue with our lessons?" asked Duncan in clear annoyance.

"But it's too soon. It's only been one day of rest for you since that night. Any fool could see you're still not well. Where's that watch dog of a horse of yours anyway?"

In answer, there was the banging of hooves on the door outside.

"I guessed as much." The Ancient shook his head, letting his katana drop out of his hand. "This is not going to work. I cannot train a student who is not in good condition."

Before Methos could walk away, the sharp edge of a sword blocked his path.

"Pick up your sword, Methos, and fight me," Duncan muttered menacingly.

"Don't be stupid!" The Immortal pushed the whoremaster's blade away, but Duncan raised it again.

"FIGHT ME, DAMN YOU!" the concubine cried in frustration.

Gripping the katana with his bare right hand, the older man wrenched it out of the whoremaster's grasp and threw it into the far corner.

"What the hell's the matter with you, Methos? I thought you wanted to teach me to become a fighting whore, someone who would give you Horsemen a good fight before you fuck me!"

"STOP SAYING THAT HATEFUL WORD!"

"What word? 'Whore'? That's what I am, remember? Thanks to you and your Brothers, I never fulfilled my destiny of becoming a great warrior!"

Methos turned abruptly, hearing for the first time what Duncan's dream was.Oh, God! I forgot he used to be a Chieftain's son, but because of me, his life was ruined!

Duncan continued furiously, "What do I have to do to get lessons from you? Is it the gold? Kronos will make certain that you are paid handsomely, even for the two nights you spent caring for me. Or maybe you're concerned about our other arrangement. I may not seem well to you, but I could still lie on my back and give you pleasure, if that's what you want. It doesn't take much effort to be bedded."

The Immortal's anger gave way immediately to disappointment and sorrow. It was evident by the way his entire posture changed, his body once straight dropping to a slouch at the weight of his conscience. Methos lowered his head, his face hidden in shadows.

"If I am going to train you," Methos began softly, "it's not because I want to...conquer...you. I want to see you fulfill your dream, as Hideo Koto believed you would. I intend to see you become a great warrior."

"Why should you care?" The thoughtless words just escaped the concubine's lips. Duncan felt his conscience give his heart a guilty pinch when the Immortal fell silent, his own heart stung by that cruel remark.

Hesitantly, the whoremaster walked towards the older man, stopping before the bowed form.

"Methos," he began nervously, fearing the Ancient's reaction, "I'm sorry. I did not mean to say that."

Then, Methos slowly gazed up at him, anguish in his green gold eyes. Getting down on his knees, the Immortal wrapped his arms around Duncan's waist, burying his face in the younger man's belly as he gave in to his tears. Duncan was totally at a loss on what to do. With much reluctance, he placed his hands on the Ancient's shoulders, wanting to push him gently away. But his heart's dictates were stronger. Instead, Duncan just found himself embracing Methos, pulling him even closer.

"Forgive me!" the Immortal sobbed miserably. "Please forgive me!"

However, the concubine could not speak, unable to say the words that would bring peace to the man in his arms. Still, his actions betrayed his true feelings. Pulling down the veil from his face, Duncan kissed the crown of Methos's head over and over again.

I love you, Methos! the thought sang sweetly in Duncan's mind. God help me that I still love you up to now…even after the betrayal, even after the rapes!

Suddenly, Methos raised his head and their lips met. Duncan wanted to pull away, afraid that the older man would recognize him. To his relief, they were in the dark, shadowed part of the salle. However, there was dread in his heart.

As tears filled his eyes, the concubine was already close to panicking. He's going to take me again! When is this going to end?

But his heart whispered, Not this time! He's kissing you! Methos never kissed you when he ravished you.

Though Duncan refused to believe the murmurings of his heart, his body betrayed him, melting in Methos's embrace as their lips touched and their tongues clashed. He barely felt the Immortal lay him down on the floor. What suddenly registered to him was their positions. Methos lay beneath him, his legs parted, accommodating the younger man's body between them.

"Methos?" Duncan could not help but ask, knowing full well that there was an infinite number of positions that the Ancient could use to take him. It did not help any that Methos's right hand found the ties of his breeches. Removing them, he reached inside and pulled out the whoremaster's flaccid sex.

"No!" the concubine gasped, wanting to squirm away. But the Immortal stroked the younger man to hardness, easing Duncan closer to him.

Positioning the tip of the tumescent member over his puckered opening, Methos whispered, "Shinno, it's your turn now."

WHAT?!Those words froze Duncan in his place.

"An eye for an eye, my student," Methos explained patiently. "I give you what I have brutally taken from you." He urged the concubine to press his weeping tip to his anus, which lay ready and waiting. "Shinno, please. You could do whatever you want with me.  
Don't hold back."

Duncan was so tempted to take Methos up on his offer. He wanted to hurt the Immortal, just as much as the older man had hurt him.

With a strangled cry, the whoremaster wrenched himself out of the Ancient's grasp. "No! I can't!"

"Yes, you can!" Methos argued in turn. "Shinno, you hate me! You told me so yourself! Hold on to your hate and take your revenge from me. I won't fight back."

"Methos, don't ask this of me!"

The Immortal was furious. "Damn it, Shinno! Here's your chance to get even with me! I never figured you to be a coward! Go on! Take me!"

"I can't!" the concubine shook his head roughly.

"Why not?"

"Be...because..." Duncan stammered as he began to weep. "BECAUSE I'M NOT LIKE YOU!"

Saying this, the concubine fled from the salle, nearly bumping into Moeru outside, running blindly through the torturous hallways of the Palace. The servants and the guards frowned as the Emir's prized whore ran past them. Duncan tore his turban from his head and ripped the silk veil from his face. The garments fell at Khassim and Joseph's feet. The two men picked them up, gazing sadly at the distraught whoremaster.

Reaching his chamber, Duncan ran inside, slamming the door shut behind him. In frustration, he began tearing his clothes to shreds, shouting "I'm not like you!" over and over again. When his fine garments were reduced to nothing more but rags, he dropped to the floor on his knees, his whole body bent, arms wrapped tightly around him. The concubine wailed in anguish, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Duncan's eyes fell upon the mirror at his side, hanging on the wall. He saw the brand that Kronos had seared onto his skin.

"I'm not like you, Methos. I could never be like you," Duncan sobbed in despair. "I'll always be a whore! Always!"

 

Hours later, the whoremaster woke up to the sound of his chamber door opening. He was surprised to find himself in bed, dressed in a robe. Somehow, during his grief-stricken state, he had fallen asleep on the floor, and Joseph and Khassim had come and lifted him up on the bed. Night had already fallen. As a shadow appeared at the curtains at the foot of the bed, Duncan swiftly placed the veil over his face. Beside him, the curtains parted and a dark figure loomed above him. The figure raised a small candle, revealing Methos' smiling, yet haggard, face.

"Hello!" he greeted the concubine, with a tinge of sadness in his voice. "I thought I'd check up on you before I go."

That last startled Duncan. "Go? Go where? Are you leaving?"

Methos shrugged. "There's no point in my staying here any longer. I cannot stay in one place with a person who doesn't trust me, who has lost all hope that his life could still change if he could only learn to trust me again. I don't want to see the future of the man I love ruined, that he won't be able to fulfill his dream. It...it would just break my heart."

A wistful smile formed on Methos's face. "But despite the things that have happened, I'm still happy...for those wonderful desert nights I spent with you. I'm happy that, during these past two days, you allowed me to take care of you."

The whoremaster saw the glimmer in Methos's eyes. Soothingly, he patted the older man's hand. Methos took it in his grasp and squeezed it gently. The Immortal looked at Duncan thoughtfully. Then, he raised the candle again and blew out the light, plunging both of them into darkness. Fear suddenly seized Duncan's heart and he wanted to flee, but Methos held on to his hand reassuringly.

As Methos embraced him, Duncan tensed up, more so, when the Ancient's hand reached for his veil. The concubine grabbed the older man's wrist, shaking his head frantically.

"Please!" Methos whispered. "I've blown out the candle. The torches have died down. It's too dark for me to see your face. Let me touch you one last time. I swear I won't hurt you."

Duncan hesitated for a moment. Then, in complete submission, he released Methos's wrist, letting his arms fall limp at his sides.

 

Methos could feel the whoremaster's body trembling beneath. He's so afraid of me! he mused in dismay.

Slowly, he peeled off the veil. His fingers caressed the forehead, feeling the lines.

My beloved Duncan has so many troubles,the Immortal concluded in sorrow, and I'm the cause of most of them.

Methos let his fingers glide down to the thick eyebrows, teasing the tiny hairs, before tracing the bridge of the fine nose. His hands cupped the smooth cheeks and was surprised to find them wet. Going up, his fingertips caressed the closed eyelids, with its long lashes. As he guessed, the younger man was indeed crying.

"Do not weep, Shinno," Methos said soothingly. "Don't be afraid."

But the more the concubine wept. As the tears trickled down on the Immortal's hands, Methos felt an ache in his heart.

Gently, he pressed his lips to Duncan's full ones. At first, the whoremaster stiffened in his embrace. However, Methos was tender and sweet, teasing those luscious lips with his tongue, coaxing the younger man to relax.

As the Immortal's hands descended, he lifted Duncan's robe off his shoulders, letting the soft garment slide down his arms. It was then that his fingertips brushed over the brand on the concubine's right shoulder. Duncan gasped, wanting to squirm away, but Methos pulled him closer.

The Immortal gritted his teeth. How could Kronos do this to him? That beast!

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," he reassured the concubine. "This was forced upon you by an evil man. This mark...it doesn't say who you truly are."

"And who am I, Methos?" asked Duncan timidly.

"A man who would someday become a great warrior."

Carefully, he traced the loathsome mark on Duncan's right shoulder with his fingertips. "This isn't real, Shinno," Methos repeated firmly. "This is not who you are."

Something hard, brushing against his thigh, distracted the Immortal. Reaching down, he grasped the concubine's genitals. Duncan's cock was fully erect, impressive in its length. The scrotum with its round, hefty balls were just as magnificent.

Methos could not help the chuckle that escaped from his lips. "Looks like you're not really 'little' after all, Little Whore."

Before the younger man could pull away, the Immortal took his cock in his hand. Duncan shook his head frantically, his hair flying, that Methos could smell the sweet scent of roses.

Feeling the man's hands on his chest, Methos warned, "Don't push me away. I have a good hold on it. You might get hurt."

There was a dismayed whimper and then soft sobbing.

Methos smiled. "Shinno, I only want to give you pleasure this time, the same way you had pleased me."

At these words, he began stroking the concubine's cock, starting from the base going towards the weeping tip. Duncan moaned, feeling himself aroused further by the fondling of his member.

When he was hard enough, Methos bent down and took the whoremaster's organ in his mouth. Duncan cried out, as Methos' head was buried between his legs. The Immortal licked the sensitive tip and then let the length slide down his throat until he reached the base, his nose taking in the musky scent of Duncan's scrotum and the sable curls at his crotch. His mouth and tongue tormented the concubine's body, bringing him to the heights of ecstasy. Reaching the peak, Duncan screamed, spilling his seed inside Methos' mouth.

Releasing the young man, Methos smiled, hearing the concubine breathing heavily on the bed.

"I hope I have pleased you," he said softly.

Hearing these words, Duncan gasped, shocked by what had just happened. With a mewling cry, he covered his face with the veil, clambered off the bed and retreated behind the dressing screen.

Methos felt his heart sink, seeing the kneeling form. Taking Duncan's flight as a sign of rejection, he said sadly, "Forgive me. It was presumptuous of me to think that I could win your trust that way. I'm leaving now. There's no need for me to stay here. I've left the gold you had paid me with Joseph. I wish I could give back the...other...things I took from you. Again, I'm sorry. I hope you could learn to forgive me someday."

 

Duncan was panting for breath behind the screen. Did that just happen? I...I never knew it could be like that -- to be loved, not abused. Methos...could it be possible that he is telling the truth? No, it can't be! But what if all this is true? That he DOES love me?

Then, he heard Methos speak. His heart stopped, hearing the words, "I'm leaving now."

The concubine acted at once. With trembling fingers, he swiftly lighted the torch at his side. Picking up the first things he saw on his dresser, Duncan moved around the screen and ran towards the Immortal.

 

Methos looked curiously at the younger man standing before him.

"Shinno?" he asked. "Is something wrong? What is it?"

The concubine raised the thing he held in his hand to the Immortal. In the torch light, Methos knew immediately what it was.

"A chessboard?" the Immortal queried, even more confused. "What am I going to do with a chessboard?"

Then, Duncan handed him two ivory chest pieces -- the White King and Queen. He opened his own palm to reveal the Black King and Queen. The whoremaster stammered, "Do...do you know how to play chess, Methos? It's been a long time since I played...."

Methos cocked a disbelieving eyebrow up. "Are...are you trying to tell me that you want me to play chess with you?"

Duncan quickly nodded his head.

"Are you sure?"

The whoremaster nodded again, smiling, although he knew the Immortal could not see his face.

Methos beamed with happiness. "Certainly! I'll play chess with you!"

As Duncan hastened to set up the pieces of the board, the Ancient felt the weight of guilt in his heart ease a bit.

"Shinno?" Methos called softly.

The concubine turned to look at him, humming a questioning note.

With a gracious bow, Methos said, "Thank you. Thank you for inviting me to play chess with you."

 

Duncan saw the sparkle of joy in the Immortal's green gold eyes.

Does winning my trust mean so much to him? the concubine pondered. For a moment, he had his doubts, but a tiny voice inside him told him that he had made the right decision. Well, I'll find out in the long run. I've already made the first step. There's no turning back for me now.

Methos squeezed his hand gently, bringing him out of his thoughts. As the whoremaster's eyes fluttered open, he saw the reassuring smile on the older man's face...and something else. A glimmer of the man he once knew.

Duncan's heart acted on its own accord. Before he knew he was doing so, the concubine gave the Ancient a desperate embrace.

"Don't leave me, Methos," he whispered, a tear falling from his right eye. "Please don't leave me."

"I won't leave you, Shinno," Methos answered, hugging him just as tightly. "I'll never leave you or hurt you again."  



	4. Chapter 26

 

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

 

Somewhere beneath the Palace, within the deepest bowels of the catacombs, three men in black robes stood before two huge, stone doors. In the flickering light of the torch, one could see tiny images of humans, beasts and otherworldly creatures in various, bizarre positions of copulation. Interspersed between these grotesque lovers were skeletons wielding spears and swords. However, all these do not compare to the gigantic hideous figure in the center. The carving of the behemoth had large holes where its eyes and its hands should be. So terrible was its visage that the three men could not look at it,  
keeping their heads lowered, not only as an act of obeisance, but of fear as well.

Getting down on their hands and knees, they bowed before this graven image, at the same time, beginning a chant in an ancient, long forgotten tongue, at first intoned softly, slowly getting louder and louder until their monotonous droning filled the catacombs.

With their heads bowed, the men did not see red lights begin to glow in the part of the carving that were the monster's eyes, gleaming with malevolence and rapacious lust.

 

Methos sat up on his bed with a start, his entire body drenched with sweat. Gazing down at his arms, he saw that his hair was standing on end. The Ancient's bed shook under him. Pulling up the covers, he found a terrified Moeru cowering under his bed.

Standing, Methos urged the little colt out of his hiding place. Moeru quickly cuddled close to the Immortal, his whole body shaking.

"You sense it too, Moeru. The Dark Magic," Methos whispered. "It's Kronos and the others. I'm sure of it, but what kind of spell are they casting? A protection spell, a death prayer, a conjuration?"

The Ancient grabbed his robe and wrapped it around his body, tying the sash around his waist. "Moeru, stay here. I'm going to check on Duncan."

The colt, however, vehemently, shook his head and bit into the hem of Methos's robe with chattering teeth.

"All right, little one," said the Ancient, patting his head in reassurance. "You can come with me, but I want you to stay close."

Taking his sword, Methos quietly went out into the corridor, with Moeru, still clinging to his robe, tagging along behind him. Surprisingly, unlike previous nights, the hallways were absolutely empty. No servants, no guards....there wasn't a single soul roaming the corridors of the Palace. He did not even have to guess where everyone was. Probably accustomed to their Master's occult activities, the Palace's inhabitants had decided to stay within the sanctuary of their chambers.

But just as Methos and Moeru turned at the next corridor where the concubine's chamber was located, they stopped at once, seeing Duncan emerge from his room, dressed only in a smoky gossamer bed gown, a long, black veil draped over his head.

"Shinno!" the Immortal called out to the younger man.

Duncan, however, continued to walk down the corridor. It was obvious that the whoremaster was in some kind of trance.

Methos and Moeru padded after the concubine, keeping a short distance between them. After a few minutes of tailing the whoremaster, they saw Duncan enter the Throne Room, the doors closing behind him. Grabbing Moeru, the Ancient ran inside, squeezing between the doors before they were locked out. As the Immortal had guessed, no one was closing the door. Greater was Methos and Moeru's shock when they turned around to  
find the concubine standing totally naked, except for the veil, in the middle of the great hall.

As Immortal and colt looked on, Duncan began to dance -- his moves sinuous, enticing. With legs parted, bent at the knees, he swayed his hips in graceful, circular motions. His hands roamed all over his chest, fingers teasing his nipples into tight pebbles of desire.  
Putting his feet together, the concubine bent his body forward, that his buttocks were thrust alluringly before the Ancient's eyes. Methos swallowed hard as Duncan parted the firm mounds to reveal the tiny opening hidden in between.

 

In the catacombs, the three men continued their chant, waving their hands in the air, eyes shut tight, unaware that eight clawed hands had emerged through the holes on the door. Those hideous hands reached out in eagerness, tracing in the air the contours of a human form.

 

Methos watched the whoremaster, mesmerized. But it was not because of the raw eroticism of the concubine's movements. Duncan's wild dance was very familiar to him. He had seen this dance before, but he could not remember when and where. There was one vague memory that came to his mind, something about a carved wooden stick.

Suddenly, the concubine dashed up the dais, going to the throne. With utter lewdness, Duncan danced around and around the throne, swaying his hips and thrusting his groin and rubbing the crack of his ass against the right post of the backrest. From beneath the velvet seat cushion, the whoremaster produced that carved wooden stick that the Ancient was struggling to remember.

At once, Methos turned pale. The stick was a wooden phallus. Carved along its one-foot length were images of crawling snakes and demons. The lascivious smile on the concubine's lips was visible through the veil, as he licked the phallus and caressed it with his palms. Duncan then sat on the throne, draping his long legs over the armrests, his  
nether parts revealed completely to the Ancient. Hugging the phallus close to his chest, the whoremaster let its point tease his tiny nipples, while his left hand reached down to stroke and fondle his member to a full erection. Grinning, Duncan gripped the phallus  
tightly in his right hand and positioned it over the rosebud opening of his ass.

"DUNCAN, NO!" Methos spoke the concubine's real name in his panic as he rushed up the dais, realizing what the younger man was about to do.

With one quick motion, Duncan plunged the phallus' full length into his body.

 

The motions of the three men became frenetic, lost in the throes and power of the black spell they were eliciting. The creature behind the carved doors was frenzied with lust, its hands moving and gesturing wildly as it caressed an invisible body before it. Its moans of ecstasy were audible behind the door.

 

Methos's hazel eyes were wide with horror and disgust, watching the younger man thrust the wooden cock in and out of his body.

"DUNCAN, STOP IT!" he cried, reaching down to grab that sexual device. "GIVE IT TO ME NOW!"

With a sneer, Duncan gripped the Immortal's wrist with unnatural force, yanking Methos' hand down to his groin. As he pulled the phallus out of his body, the concubine curled the Ancient's hand into a tight fist and thrust it inside his flesh. Methos turned as white as a sheet, feeling the younger man use his hand as a cock, jabbing it fiercely within his channel. He tried to yank his hand back, but Duncan held it in a tight grip.

"Damn it, Duncan! What the hell are you doing?" To his dismay, blood trickled from the concubine's anus. Desperate to stop this traumatic fisting, Methos raised his free hand and yanked the veil from the whoremaster's face. At once, a horrified scream was wrenched from his throat.

Under that black veil was the face of a hideous demon. It was not even just a single face, but two faces overlapping each other with blurring quickness, as though a weaving reflection in water. One face was obviously female, because of the blood red color of its lips. The other was male. But both had round red eyes, gleaming with evil, their noses small with flaring nostrils. Their mouths were opened wide, revealing razor sharp teeth. Its hair – black one moment and then fiery red the next – was tied in a ponytail at the top of its head.

"Who are you?" Methos demanded. "Who the hell are you?"

Instead of answering, the demon jerked the Ancient's hand out of his ass. Grabbing the back of the Immortal's head, he forced Methos's face down between the bloody region of his legs.

"LICK ME! SUCK ME!" the demon cried with great enthusiasm, keeping the Ancient's face trapped between his legs. "COME ON! I KNOW YOU WANT TO DO THIS! SHOW THIS WHORE WHAT KIND OF MAN YOU ARE!"

Using his hands for leverage on the armrests, Methos pulled his head free, gasping for air, his face bloodied. Enraged, the Immortal's hands flew to the demon's neck, trying desperately to choke it, but to no avail. The demon merely laughed at his feeble attempts.

"WHERE'S DUNCAN?" Methos shouted in fury. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?"

"THE WHORE IS MINE, YOU HEAR ME!" the demon bellowed in return. "MINE!"

As the Ancient struggled with the demon, he suddenly heard a small voice cry out inside his mind. It was Mikey.

Help Duncan, Methos! that voice begged him. Please help him!

But what am I going to do?the Immortal asked in despair. Tell me  
what I must do!

Then, something squeezed between Methos and the demon. It was Moeru, standing on its hind legs, tears trickling from his round black eyes. With loving tenderness, the colt sought out Duncan's nipple and nipped the tiny bud, beginning to suckle.

"GET IT OFF ME!" the demon cried in abhorrence, trying to break free from Moeru's grip on his tit. "GET THAT DAMNED THING OFF ME!"

At that moment, Methos felt something -- an aura of warm sunshine that he knew belonged to the concubine. It was being stifled by the dark essence of the demon that had taken control of his mind and body. That same instant, inside him, he heard Kamir's voice speaking in Hindi. Methos did not realize that he himself was speaking in that same tongue aloud, along with the voice of Kamir's Quickening.

"ODALISK! HELL'S WHORE!" the Immortal declared, his voice becoming one with Kamir's. "I BIND YOU TO THE DARKNESS FROM WHERE YOU CAME! POWERS OF LIGHT, CHAIN THIS INFERNAL CREATURE INTO ITS PRISON!"

Then, bending down, Methos pressed his lips to Duncan's.

 

Down in the catacombs, the creature behind the doors let out a frustrated roar. Its hands retreated back into the room, the glow of its eyes slowly fading away. However, before it could return to the darkness of its prison, it banged fiercely on the doors, that single noise reverberating throughout the Palace.

 

The Immortal felt it the instant the evil presence left the concubine's body, like a sudden rush of foul air. At first, the whoremaster was seized by violent tremors, his entire body shaking. Arching his body upwards, a blood-curdling scream was wrenched from  
Duncan's throat.

"Duncan! Duncan, wake up!" Methos cried, shaking the younger man.

The concubine, however, would not stop screaming, his eyes wide with madness and terror.

Fearing that the whoremaster might lose his mind, Methos slapped Duncan hard in the face. The concubine sat up abruptly as he took a deep breath. Then, he fell back into the Ancient's arms in a faint.

At that moment, Joseph and Khassim barged into the Throne Room, stunned to find Methos, Duncan and Moeru inside the hall. Moeru had the veil in his mouth which he handed over to the Immortal. With trembling hands, Methos covered Duncan's sweat-drenched face with the veil.

There was seething anger on Methos' face as he turned to the two startled men. "WOULD YOU MIND TELLING ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THIS PLACE?"  



	5. Chapter 27

 

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

 

Methos carried Duncan back to his chamber, with Moeru trotting at his side. Following with great reluctance were Joseph and a very confused Khassim. Entering the room, the Ancient laid the concubine on his bed, tucking him in with the blanket. The colt jumped on the bed as well and settled down beside Duncan, his head on his Master's  
belly.

"I want you to watch over him for me, Moeru," ordered Methos. "If there's trouble, I want you and Duncan to run away and hide in some place safe, all right?"

Moeru blinked his eyes in assent and even draped a protective leg over the whoremaster's body.

Bending down, Methos kissed Duncan's lips, the outline visible under the dark veil. As he straightened up, he turned to the two men grimly. "Let's go, gentlemen. We have much to discuss."

Nodding, Joseph took a small lamp. "Come with me. There is only one place in this Palace where we could talk in private."

Taking the lead, the scribe brought the two Immortals to the very heart of the Palace -- a small room, which Methos at first thought was a mere storage chamber. But when Joseph produced a rusted iron key and opened the door, the Ancient was stunned to discover that the room was actually a place of worship. The chamber itself was circular, with a domed ceiling. The stone idols adorning the walls were unfamiliar to him, but they resembled the gods of the Hindu. Their hands were fixed in various gestures of spell casting and prayer. However, what was different about them from the Hindi gods was that all their eyes were open and painted to give them that fierce, piercing glare. All the gods' heads were slightly bent. To Methos, they looked like they were staring at a point on the floor. Strangely enough, he could actually feel power emanating from those statues, filling not only this chamber but extending beyond it as well. There was also a startling anomaly.

Methos looked at Khassim, who was just as startled as he was. "I could sense you."

"So could I," Khassim noted as well. "This is the first time I've been to this particular part of the Palace."

"No one is supposed to know that this room existed, including me," put in Joseph. "The former scribe of this Palace shared the secret with me. If Kronos were to find out that I know about this place, he would have me immediately executed."

"But what is this place?" asked Methos.

From within his robes, the Scribe pulled out an old scroll and laid it on the altar. As the two men gathered around it, they saw that it was actually the plans for the Palace, superimposed over strange markings, which were obviously architectural plans for something else. It was apparent to Methos that the Palace was built over some kind of  
edifice. Looking closely at the diagram, a gasp escaped his lips.

"By the gods, are you trying to tell me that this Palace is some kind of maze, or a mausoleum?" the Ancient exclaimed.

"Actually, it's both a mausoleum and a maze," Joseph explained. Gesturing to the room in which they were in, he continued, "This...chapel...is where the dead were interred. According to my predecessor, this chapel also served as the gateway for the  
souls of the departed to the afterlife. These stone gods decided whether the soul should go to Heaven or to Hell. However, this Holy Ground has served another purpose."

Khassim frowned. "What kind of purpose?"

"Let me tell you first about the tribe that originally lived here. Legend has it that these ancients were practitioners of magic. Not Dark Magic, because they believed in the sanctity of life and preserving the natural order of the universe. The magic they  
performed was always for the good of the people. They cast spells to assure bountiful crops, induce rains as well as heal the sick and serious injuries. They are always in constant communication with their gods, that is why they were a blessed race.

"However, one of them, supposedly a deranged and depraved kind of fellow, started to dabble in Dark Magic, particularly of the sexual variety. Such was his charisma that the sorcerer had many followers and they attempted to take over the land by summoning a demon that could grant them their hearts' desire, and they succeeded. But this demon was a very capricious being, saying that it would only grant their wish if they would offer a sacrifice to it. This sacrifice was supposed to be pure of soul and should be willing to satisfy its demands. Apparently, this sorcerer and his followers found such a sacrifice. The other magicians discovered their plot. With the help of their gods, they banished the sorcerer and his minions to Hell. However, they were too late in stopping the sacrifice, which made the demon powerful. The demon destroyed this once fertile land and transformed it into a desert. It would have gone beyond the limits of this country, but the magicians were successful in trapping him in this place. Through the intervention of the gods, they drained the demon of its powers to the point that it was almost mortal. Unfortunately, having gone beyond their limits as well, magicians and gods alike were unable to banish him back into the underworld. Instead, they built these catacombs, a kind of prison, to keep the demon in. As a safety measure, the magicians had this chapel made so that from here, they could still perform the magic that would keep the demon from escaping to the outside world once more."

Methos put in, "So that is the reason why I couldn't sense any Immortals at all. This...protection spell...it even dulls the magick that all Immortals possess."

"You said the demon was drained of its powers," interrupted Khassim. "How did they do it?"

"My predecessor told me that the magicians and gods put all of its powers inside a crystal called..."

"The Methuselah Stone," the Ancient finished the sentence for the scribe.

Joseph looked at the Immortal in surprise. "You've heard of the Methuselah Stone?"

Methos smiled wryly. "Being the world's oldest living Immortal, you hear things. It is said that anyone who possesses it – mortal or Immortal – would be blessed with eternal life. But I never thought that it contained the power of a demon. Every Immortal I know believed it to be a myth."

"Unfortunately, it is real, as well as the danger it poses. That is why the Methuselah Stone was hidden in a distant land, so that no one will be able to awaken the demon and free it."

The moor remarked, "If that's the case, I don't think we'll be having any problems. Without the Stone, the demon is powerless."

"That's where you're wrong," Methos said thoughtfully. "The demon's awake and it's controlling Duncan." He turned to Joseph. "Kronos has the Stone, doesn't he?"

There was a shocked expression on Khassim's face as the scribe nodded.

The Ancient shook his head. "Knowing Kronos, he probably has it hidden in a safe place. I doubt if even Caspian or Silas know where it is. Still, it's in close proximity that the demon could obviously draw power from the Stone if it could control Duncan like this."

"No, it cannot," Joseph countered. "It should have physical contact with the Stone. The Horsemen, however, have been acting as conduits between the Stone and the demon." The scribe's jaw hardened. "This is the only way for it to...enjoy...Duncan's body. With the concubine's pure soul, and his innocence of the terrible fate that awaits him, the demon will not be able to claim him at the present time."

"I guessed as much," said Methos. "So that's what Kronos meant by 'a little abracadabra.' That bastard!"

Khassim scratched his head in confusion. "What does Duncan have to do with all of this?"

The Ancient's face darkened. "It's quite simple, in a perverse kind of way. Knowing him to be the megalomaniac that he is, Kronos intends to use the demon to conquer the world. Unlike the sorcerer centuries before, he has two bargaining chips -- the Stone and Duncan. Given the insatiable lust the demon displayed earlier when it possessed Duncan, it's very obvious now that Kronos had the concubine trained to be an expert whore in order to satisfy the cravings of that monster. Duncan is his sacrifice. Khassim hinted as much before he died. While I was trying to free Duncan from the demon's influence, I heard the voice of Kamir's Quickening. He was saying something about a wish."

Joseph nodded. "The sacrifice must be willing before the demon could claim his body. Not only will the sacrifice offer his flesh to it, he must also make the wish on his Master's behalf."

"Duncan will never do that," the Ancient said firmly.

It was Khassim who spoke up. "I have to hand it to Kronos. He is very devious."

Methos's brows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"I've always wondered why Kronos decided to bring you in during the last part of our journey, despite knowing how much you hate him. Both Kamir and I could lead the caravan, because this is our territory."

"If you're saying that I might be used to convince Duncan to go to the demon willingly, you're wrong. I would rather die than see him fall into that monster's hands because of me."

"After all these years," Joseph began, "you still don't know the things that Duncan would do for you. He did it fifteen years ago. He would willingly do it again, because he loves you deeply."

Methos fell silent, lost in deep thought. Then, he mumbled, "Maybe it would be better if he hates me instead."

The scribe frowned. "Did you say something, Methos?"

"No," the Ancient quickly answered. "Just woolgathering." He looked at the plans once more. "Kronos is truly twisted. He built the Palace into the plans of the catacombs. It's like a maze, probably to give the demon enough room to roam around in secrecy. I seriously doubt if anyone had ever seen it."

"I think there had been a few servants who had the misfortune of encountering it," said Joseph. "They just disappeared without a trace. I'm thankful at least that I never bumped into it when I was exploring the secret tunnels."

"I certainly wouldn't want to see it," Khassim exclaimed with a shudder. "Still, I wonder what it looks like."

The scribe raised his lamp to a shelf carved beneath the stone gods. "Let me show you."

As the flame of the lamp touched the shelf, the oil inside caught fire, sending tongues of flame encircling around the room, engulfing it suddenly in light.

"ALLAH BE MERCIFUL!" Khassim gasped at the terrifying image painted on the floor.

At first glance, the demon looked like the Hindu goddess Kali. However, unlike the goddess, it had eight clawed arms. On its clearly muscular male torso were two full breasts. It sat Lotus-style in the middle of a blazing fire to reveal an enormous male member and the wide orifice of a female between its legs. The demon had two heads --  
one male, one female. But both were hideous, with wide, kohl-painted red eyes with a malevolent glare, flaring nostrils, dark red lips and razor sharp teeth. Forked tongues snaked out of those gaping mouths. Their hair -- the male's fiery red, the female's as black as night -- was gathered at the top of their heads with a cord and tied into ponytails. Bat wing-shaped ears extended from the sides of their heads.

Methos could barely hide his horror and disgust, seeing that horrible visage. "The Odalisk," he muttered the demon's name.

Suddenly, an ear-piercing shriek of pain filled the air, followed by anguished whinnies.

"MOERU!" the Ancient cried. He swiftly turned to the two men. "Leave this room at once before Kronos or Caspian catch you! I'll take care of this!"

Before Joseph and Khassim could react, Methos ran out the door, heading back to the concubine's chamber. Reaching the hallway where Duncan's suite was at, his eyes widened in shock.

Moeru was lying on his side on the floor, blood trickling from his mouth. Standing above him, kicking him again and again in the belly, was the furious form of Caspian. Inside the chamber, Duncan was crying out.

"NO, PLEASE DON'T HURT HIM!" the concubine screamed behind the closed door. "HE DIDN'T MEAN IT! MOERU!"

Before Caspian could place another kick on the hapless colt, Methos swiftly pulled out his dagger and laid the sharp edge over the insane Immortal's throat.

"You would kill me, Methos, over an animal?" Caspian asked in disbelief.

"I will if you continue to hurt him," answered Methos, his words filled with firm intent.

"That little bastard bit my cock!" the Horseman complained.

The door opened abruptly and Kronos stepped outside. For a moment, before the evil Emir closed the door behind him, Methos caught a glimpse of terrified brown eyes.

"What...is...this?" Kronos gestured to the bleeding colt.

"This is your whore's beloved pet," Methos replied in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, cautiously lowering his dagger. "A gift to him by the Bandit Chief Abdullah Bakkar."

"I don't want this animal here! I want it taken to the stables where it belongs!"

"Why? Because he bit Caspian's cock? Tell me, Kronos. Which would you prefer -- a whore who would willingly obey your every command or one who would rebel because you took away the one and only thing that is precious to him? You don't know him like I do, Emir-sama. You wouldn't like it when he gets it into his head to be rebellious."

Kronos gave the Ancient a level glare. "Was it you, Methos?"

Methos knew immediately what he was referring to. "Of course it was me! Do you think I like bumping into rapacious concubines roaming around the hallways in the middle of the night? I was looking for a servant to bring me some food when your whore molested me!"

"Are you saying he tried to..."

"Yes," he lied convincingly. "I've never seen Shinno act this way. When I tried to stop him, he transformed into this...this hideous thing. What the hell's going on, Kronos? Did you have me escorting a raving lunatic? Why didn't you warn me?"

A smile formed on Kronos's lips. "Forgive me, Brother. I never intended you to become the unwitting victim of our spell casting. I guess we owe you an explanation."

"You're damned right you do!"

The Emir nodded. "Very well. We shall talk. Tomorrow night. In my chamber."

That leer on Kronos's face was unmistakable. Talk? That's not all we're going to do, and you damned well know it! Methos, however, did not allow his revulsion to show on his face. Instead, he said, "It's about time. All right. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Kronos repeated. "Caspian, let's go!"

"Hold it!" Methos stopped the two men. "What about the colt?"

Kronos glanced down at the writhing form. "It could stay with my concubine. But I will not allow it to be around when I want to bed my precious whore."

"If I'm not able to watch the colt," began Methos, "I'll ask for Silas's help." At least, Silas, unlike Kronos or Caspian, was kind to animals. "However, this does not mean we won't have a turn. I hope we understand each other on this."

The Emir burst into laughter. "Why, I never knew you could be so greedy! But of course! We're Brothers! We share! For now, I leave him in your hands. I doubt, however, if you will have use for him tonight."

"I could imagine. I could hear his screams all over the Palace. Shinno loves this colt dearly. Good night, gentlemen."

"Good night, Methos." Kronos tugged Caspian's arm, who reluctantly followed him, but not before granting the Ancient a fierce glower.

Methos waited for the two men to leave the hallway. Bending down, he gently picked up Moeru. The colt was trembling all over. Still, he managed to open his eyes, pupils black and alert.

"When I said watch over Duncan, I didn't mean that you should get yourself killed while doing so." The Ancient kissed the colt on his nose. "You did well, little one. Come! Let's see to your beloved Master."

The minute Methos opened the door, Duncan, his veil wet with his tears, ran towards them, unmindful of the blood that was streaming down his legs and staining his silk bed gown. All his attention was focused on the colt.

"Moeru! Oh, my dear sweet Moeru!" he sobbed, caressing the colt's brow. Duncan turned teary doe eyes to the Ancient. "Is he all right, Methos? Please tell me he's all right!"

"I'm not sure. Caspian walloped him pretty hard. I have to examine him closely. It would be better if Silas were here. He has a way with animals."

"If you like, if he could help Moeru, I'll call him at once."

There was a curious expression on the Ancient's face, hearing what the concubine said.

Duncan swallowed hard. "When he's not with his Kronos and Caspian, when it's only the two of us, Silas is very kind and gentle with me."

Methos thought back to that first night in Kronos's chamber. Although all three men had taken the whoremaster, it was indeed Silas who showed consideration for Duncan. Not once did Silas whip him. Even during the act, Horseman had been slow with his thrusts, something that had gotten Caspian irked with impatience.

The Immortal smiled reassuringly. "No, I think it would be better if Moeru rested with you for the time being."

Nodding, Duncan hurried towards the bed and pulled back the sheets. Methos gently laid the colt on the bed beside the concubine. As Duncan pulled him close, Moeru nuzzled on his bare chest and smacked his lips on a tiny nipple, starting to feed.

Methos groaned. "I should have known a horse's chivalry would have a price."

Duncan kissed Moeru's nose. "He deserves it."

"What happened, Shinno?"

"I don't know exactly. It was all too confusing for me. I woke up with a sharp pain in my belly. When I looked down, I saw the blood between my legs. At that same instant, Kronos and Caspian appeared. I thought that they had raped me while I was sleeping. They were about to take me again, but Moeru came forward. When they saw him, Kronos had an idea. He had Caspian grab Moeru while Kronos pinned me down on the bed and spread my legs." Duncan paused, unsure if he should proceed. Sighing, he said, "They wanted Moeru to...you know...like that first time in Abdullah's tent. But..."

Methos's jaw hardened. "Moeru wouldn't do it. I know. He bit Caspian's cock instead."

"Yes. For a moment, I thought that Moeru would actually bite off his cock. But then, both he and Kronos started beating him. I tried to stop them. When Kronos saw that I was getting hysterical, he ordered Caspian to take Moeru outside while he bedded me. I'm thankful that you came just in time to save him."

"What about you? Are YOU all right?"

"Just the usual aches. I'll heal."

"Good. I'll leave you two alone then. I'll come back in the morning with Silas."

Methos was about to leave, but the concubine grabbed his hand.

"Please, Methos," Duncan begged him. "Don't go. There's enough room in this bed. You could sleep here."

"Are you sure you want me here?"

"Please. I may have been...disagreeable...so many times in the past. But I've only felt truly safe when I'm with you."

The Ancient hesitated. However, the sight of the wet shimmer in those brown orbs was something he could not refuse. With a nod, Methos climbed into bed, with a suckling Moeru between them. Unable to resist the urge, he reached out with a gentle finger and wiped the tears from the concubine's eyes, slowly going down to caress the cheekbone  
peeking above the veil.

Quietly, Duncan asked, "Methos?"

"Yes, Shinno?"

"Do...do you want to see my face?"

"Do you want to show me your face?"

A small shrug. "I know you want to see my face very much. Before he died, Katsushiro always told me how happy he was that he and his teacher had seen my face while you haven't."

"Mikey had teased me about it too," Methos admitted.

"If you like, if you command me to, I'll show you my face."

"But you don't want to do that, do you?"

"To be truthful, I really don't know how I should feel. I could feel Mikey inside me, telling me that I should. But..."

"But what?"

Pause. Then, there was the soft admission, "I'm afraid."

"What is there for you to be afraid of?"

"You. I'm afraid of what you might do if you see my face at last. I'm afraid that you might get very, very angry with me."

Methos reached out his arm and embraced the older man. Cuddled as he was between the two men, Moeru let out a pleased sigh.

"There's no reason for you to be afraid of me, Shinno," the Ancient reassured him. "Why should I be angry with you, when you have done nothing wrong?" Closing his eyes, he inwardly added, I am more angry with myself because it was I who brought you into this Hell.He then said, "I will not put any pressure on you. You can show me your face when you're good and ready."

Silence. For a moment, Methos thought that the whoremaster had already fallen asleep. Then, soft lips were pressed to his own. Green gold eyes met warm brown orbs.

Embracing the Immortal as well, Duncan whispered in relief, "Thank you, Methos. Thank you."


	6. Chapter 28

 

**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**

 

A sound like a pained squeak was elicited from Moeru as Silas, with Methos's assist, tightened the bandages around his bruised ribs. Duncan, who was watching with hands clasped in earnest prayer, blanched and gasped in concern.

Grinning, the Horseman patted the colt's rump. "There, there now, boy. We're all done."

"Master Silas?" the concubine queried breathlessly. "Are you sure he's going to be all right?"

"Of course he will! He's a tough little fellow!"

"But...but...why doesn't he get up?"

Methos smirked, noticing Moeru's eyes blink close, obviously pretending to be still in pain. "Shinno, I think you overfed him last night."

What was visible of Duncan's face was flushed in embarrassment.

"Him? Overfed?" Silas burst into laughter. "I've seen this little runt roaming the hallways since he got here and it looks like he hasn't grown a single inch! I think he's a midget!"

At that comment, Moeru raised his head, teeth bared. The Horseman swiftly pulled his hand back before the colt could snap at his fingers. With a snort, Moeru cuddled up to his protector.

"A word of advice, Little Whore," Silas began. Methos stole a quick glance at Duncan, but there was no sign of offense from the younger man at that name. Besides, his Brother spoke the name with such good cheer, almost like a pet name. "Perhaps you should consider not pampering him. If you baby him all the time, he'll always stay a  
runt."

Moeru stuck his tongue out at Silas, hearing that piece of advice. Before Duncan could stop him, the colt thrust his head through the opening of the whoremaster's robe with an eager whinny.

The Horseman's laughter rumbled jovially in his chest. "See what I mean!"

Blushing, Duncan gave Silas a grateful bow. "Thank you, Master Silas! Thank you so much!" He looked at Methos. "Me…uh...Master Methos, would you be so kind as to look after Moeru for awhile for me?"

It was Silas who quickly shook his head, immediately understanding what the concubine meant. "Oh, no! There's no need for that!" He even wagged his hands furiously.

"But I want to."

"Maybe later, Little Whore. You need to take care of this runt first."

Duncan nodded, but there was a hint of a warm smile beneath his veil. "If that is your advice. But, Master Silas, please don't forget. I owe you."

Silas raised his hands and gently caressed the concubine's face. Cupping the younger man's cheeks, he gave Duncan a sweet peck on the brow.

"I won't forget," the Horseman reassured him. He turned to the Ancient. "Care to come with me, Brother? I think the young master and his colt need to be alone for awhile."

Nodding, Methos leaned down and kissed Duncan on the lips. "I'll see you later, Shinno."

"Yes, Master Methos," said Duncan in gratitude. "And thank you too."

The two Immortals left the room, with Silas closing the door quietly.

As they walked down the corridor, Methos put in softly, "I should thank you as well, Silas. I thought you would be like Kronos or Caspian, but I could see how much you care for him, as he cares for you."

Silas shrugged. "The bedding aside, he is really more like a little brother to me. I try to protect him...whenever I can." He gave the man at his side a curious glance. "You call him 'Shinno.' Do you truly not know who he is?"

Uncertain on whether to trust his fellow Immortal or not, Methos decided to answer with a half-truth. "I only know him to be Kronos' whore who is so overprotective of his identity, obviously at his Master's command. If he doesn't want to show me his face, that's fine with me. Bedding him is enough."

Silas hummed thoughtfully. "Is that all he means to you? A simple plaything to sate your lust? For a moment, I thought there was something between you."

Methos smiled wryly. "I never could fool you now, can I, Silas."

"That's because you tend to get a careless when your emotions are concerned. You'd better be careful how you act when you're with Kronos. I wouldn't worry about Caspian too much. He's too...mentally unstable. He merely follows our Brother's orders."

"Tell me, Silas. What is Kronos up to? Last night, Shinno turned into a ghastly monster. What have you been doing?"

Silas, however, said, "I heard that you will be seeing Kronos tonight. He is in the better position to explain it to you. But if I were in your place, I would tread cautiously where he is concerned. If you love Shinno, do not let Kronos use you."

Methos let out a sigh. "Silas, I know a lot more than you think. Maybe not the complete picture, but Kronos will be able to fill in the gaps. Still..." He stopped and gazed at the Horseman. "There was a time when Shinno hated me. Perhaps it would be better to rekindle that hate...for his sake."

"Do you think you could do that, Methos? I've known the man you call Shinno for many years, and I've learned one important thing about him."

"And what's that?"

Smiling, Silas clapped a hand over Methos' shoulder. "Never underestimate the power of a loving and forgiving heart."

 

Hours later, Methos returned to Duncan's chamber to find the concubine all alone and playing chess.

"What happened to the runt?" he queried, wondering where Moeru was.

"I brought Moeru to the stables earlier to see if he would like to play with the other colts," Duncan replied as he moved his knight, taking away the pawn. Laughing lightly, he said, "Master Silas was right. He is a lot shorter than the other colts. The colts were always teasing him and pulling on his tail. Moeru got frustrated that he banged his thick skull into one of them. One of the mares took offense and nipped him in the butt. Before I knew it, Moeru was running across the field and had leaped into my arms, bawling like a baby. I brought him to your room. Probably exhausted, the poor thing fell asleep on his cot."

"Silas is right about a lot of things, especially when it comes to animals." Methos inwardly commented, As well as affairs of the heart. "I think Moeru will always be small. He certainly doesn't look like the other horses I've seen. As Silas said, he looks like one of those midget horses."

"Moeru doesn't like to be called a midget."

"It's either that or Silas gives him one of his infamous growth balls from China. Before he became a Horseman, Silas was a farmer and an expert herbalist. I know he has some growth potions that he made from herbs."

Duncan shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I like Moeru just the way he is. Denko is also a sweet horse, but you couldn't cuddle him like the way you could Moeru. Do you know that it was Silas who taught me how to ride a horse?"

"I didn't know that."

"As a child, he would always sit me on the adult horses instead of the colts. He said that it's better that I got used to it at an early age."

"Thank God, you didn't fall!"

"Do you think I didn't? But I was thankful that Silas was always around to catch me when I went sailing through the air."

Methos gave the concubine a thoughtful glance. "You like Silas a lot, don't you?"

"At first, I didn't," the younger man answered softly. "I thought he was just like his Brothers. In the beginning, he was just as cruel as they were. However, as time passed, I've seen the kind of man Silas truly is – his kindness, his consideration for my well-being, and he is sorry for the things he had done to me before. If the Horsemen wanted to bed me, I would prefer that Silas were around. Although Kronos and Caspian would be brutal, but at least, I know, with Silas, that it would be good and that there would be no pain, no tears." Duncan looked at the Ancient curiously. "I never understood why Silas chose to join the Horsemen. His nature...it's contradicting to what you stand for."

"No, not really. Like Kronos, Silas has dreams of power. Sometimes, his good nature is overpowered by it. But more often than not, his gentle heart shows. I believe he thinks it a weakness, but I don't think so. I'm comforted in the belief that there is something  
in Silas that hasn't given up his humanity."

To Methos's surprise, Duncan suddenly held his hand. "Methos? I know the life you Immortals lead. I know there will come a time when you will have to face your Brothers in mortal combat. If that should happen, could you...at least...try to talk Silas out of it?"

"You don't want me to kill him, is that it?"

"I don't want either of you to get killed. Silas...he deserves a chance at a better kind of life. Without the hatred, without the greed, without the killing. Same as you."

Methos gave a wry laugh. "You know how strong is the lust for blood and battles. It doesn't matter if years or even centuries pass. We will always be what we are – members of the Four Horsemen. Nothing could ever change that."

"Surely you don't believe that. I mean, you see what I am now," Duncan looked meaningfully at the older man. "Wouldn't you want to live a peaceful life, like what you had with Alexa? You asked me a question once. If...if there is a chance that things could change for me, wouldn't you want to have that kind of life for us?"

Methos looked at the concubine in surprise. He never expected to hear that last from the younger man. Duncan's hand was warm on his, becoming scorching, as his own hand turned to ice. Was this the 'yes' he was waiting for? The warmth in those limpid pools that were Duncan's eyes told him that it was true.

However, the events of last night came back to the Ancient. He could clearly conjure up the hideous visage of the demon that had temporarily possessed the whoremaster.

"Don't allow Kronos to use you," he remembered Silas's advice.

"Duncan must be a willing sacrifice," Joseph had told him.

Methos' body reacted at once before he knew he was doing so. He turned the table over, spilling the chessboard and its pieces onto the floor. He heard Duncan's surprised cry as he jerked the whoremaster towards the bed, throwing him on top. With cold-blooded intent, Methos yanked the younger man's robes up, spreading his thighs with a  
callused hand. Positioning himself between those long legs, he readied himself to take the shocked form beneath him.

Forgive me, he spoke inside his mind, not knowing that tears were trickling down his cheeks. But I need your hate. If you hate me, you will never go to the demon of your own free will.

"Methos..." Duncan's soft, but firm voice was like a beam of light that pierced through the haze of anguish inside his mind. "If you're going to take me, I want your eyes to be open. Look at me, Methos."

It was then that Methos realized that from the table to their present position on the bed, he dared not look at the concubine's face. He had even closed his eyes. However, at that request, his eyelids snapped open -- hazel orbs meeting brown doe eyes. Both shimmering with tears.

"Please don't do this, Methos," Duncan begged the Ancient. "You know it doesn't have to be this way. Please! Don't give me a reason to hate you again!"

Methos's eyes snapped shut, hoping to stop the flow of tears, but it was useless. In the end, he collapsed on top of the whoremaster and burst into sobs.

Startled, Duncan embraced the older man, soothing him with soft sounds rather than speak words of comfort. The minutes turned into an hour as the concubine waited for Methos's weeping to abate. Soon enough, the Immortal's hiccupy breathing became shallow pants of desire. As Methos nuzzled at his neck and shoulder, a tiny gasp of  
surprise escaped Duncan's lips as he was penetrated.

"I'm sorry," he heard the Ancient whisper in his ear. "I'm so sorry."

Duncan shuddered as Methos' reached inside his robe, his left hand cupping his chest, fingers fondling and pinching his nipple. A strong arm snaked around him to draw him close to the older man, so that he was filled completely.

The concubine held on tightly to his lover, feeling Methos' hesitant thrusts inside him.

"It's all right, Methos," Duncan mumbled huskily. "Do what you will with me."

At that reassurance, Methos gave in completely to the call of desire, taking the willing concubine over the edge with him.

 

"What happened, Methos?" Duncan asked quietly.

The two men lay arm in arm on the bed. The concubine was snuggled up to Methos, his head lying on the Ancient's breastbone. His long brown hair covered Methos' chest like a shawl.

"I wish I could explain, Shinno," answered Methos, confused himself.

"Is it because you're a Horseman again? Am I now just a whore to you?"

"You're not a whore!"

"Then, what am I? There was a time when I had a dream, but that's all it's going to be. I'm never going to get away from this place. Maybe this is my true destiny."

"No, it's not," Methos insisted, his voice sharp. "Look at me." Lovely brown eyes peered up at him. "There are things you don't know...about Kronos and this place. You must hold on to your dream of becoming a warrior. Shinno, your life depends on it."

"I don't understand."

"Whatever happens, don't allow your spirit to be broken. If it does, it would be very easy for you to surrender everything."

Sighing, Duncan turned his gaze away from the younger man. "My spirit has been broken a long time ago. The only thing I have is the little strength...and love...inside my heart. If my heart were to be broken by the one person I love the most..."

Methos embraced the older man hard. "I wish I could not promise you that, Shinno. How I wish I could not! But we're in Hell now. The place of broken dreams and broken hearts."

Tears trickled on Methos's chest, warm little drops of fear,and a desperate clinging to fragile hope. "But you can try, can't you, Methos?" whispered Duncan. "For my sake, won't you at least try?"

The Ancient kissed the concubine on the crown of his head. His voice was strained as he answered, "I'll try. For your sake, Shinno, I'll try."

 

Unknown to the two men, dark eyes were watching them from behind the mirror.

Kronos gritted his teeth as he stormed down the tunnel.

A shame, Brother, he thought darkly. You made me believe that I could trust you. I won't let you get in my way, Methos. I swear I'll break this little love affair you've been hiding behind my back. By the time I'm through with you, you will be dead, and the world and your precious whore would truly belong to me.


	7. Chapter 29

 

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

 

Methos eyed Kronos with apprehension from across the table. They had been dining for the past hour, exchanging nothing more than casual conversation. The Ancient wondered if it was because of the servant in their presence, but noting the furtive glances the Horseman accorded him, he knew Kronos was up to something. The question was what?

Thankfully, the Emir dismissed the servant, saying something about another person, possibly a slave as well, to serve them the best wine in the cellars. He waited for the servant to leave before lounging back into his chair, hands forming a steeple, staring at the Ancient.

"So..." Methos waved his hands with a hint of impatience. "Are you going to tell me what you're up to?"

"You know me, Brother," grinned Kronos. "You know that the only thing that interests me is world domination."

"And a good whore," the Ancient quickly added. "Which you already possess."

"That's true. He is exquisite, isn't he? Never did I imagine that he would learn so much in so little time. I have no doubt that he will succeed where the others have failed."

"Succeed in what? I've never known you to have a problem in getting it up."

"That's not what I meant. I meant succeed in securing for me the entire world."

"Don't make me laugh, Kronos! What could a whore do that you could not accomplish in fifteen years of countless sieges?"

The Horseman leaned forward. "What if I told you that I had...something...that could make this possible."

"I'd say that you've probably been enjoying Caspian's company for too long," Methos remarked snidely.

"I'm not insane, Brother. One of these days, I'll show it to you. My sweet, talented concubine is the key to make it work."

"Does Shinno know what you're planning to do?"

"Unfortunately, he doesn't. Even more unfortunate is that he needs to be willing."

Methos laughed. "Then you, Brother, have a very big problem. You don't know your precious whore like I do. He's very headstrong. He will never be willing."

"That is why I need your help. You could convince him to see things my way."

"And that is one thing I will never do. Kronos, he's your problem. If you want him to obey you, try convincing him yourself." The Ancient stood up, tapping his hands on the table in finality. "Thank you for the fine dinner, Brother!"

But as Methos turned his back to the evil ruler, Kronos hurriedly called out, "Methos, don't go! Not yet! Aren't you curious know about what happened to your tiny ward in the Highlands of Scotland?"

Methos stopped at once, his blood running cold. "What is there for me to know?" he replied bluntly. "By this time, he is already laird of the keep?

"You hate him, don't you? Because, as a wee child, he betrayed you. Is that not the reason why you decided to join the caravan? You thought you could have your revenge on the laird by starting with his close associates like me, the Emir of Ain Mehira. You have good connections, Methos, to know so much of what has been happening for the past twenty-five years."

"Yet I still know so little. Sometimes, I wonder if I were not deliberately being fed with misleading information."

There was a guilty expression on Kronos's face. "True, but aren't you going to ask me about Duncan MacLeod?"

The Ancient did not reply, not certain if he could trust his own voice. Still, Kronos saw the flash of hurt in his hazel eyes.

"Oh, forgive me for my persistence! I could see that you still love that child very much. Charming little boy!" He gave his the Immortal a conspiratorial wink. "I wish you got the chance to know him the way I did."

It took great effort on Methos' part not to pull out his spear and take Kronos' head right then and there. Bastard! It was you! It was you all along! Oh, Duncan! How could I have abandoned you the way I had? It's my fault that your life is ruined!

"I wish I had," Methos lied under his teeth, his rage seething inside. Dismissingly, he declared, "But let's not talk about the past."

Kronos stood up, going behind Methos's chair, running his hand over the Ancient's shoulders. "You're right. I shouldn't have brought up the pains of the past." His voice husky with desire, he murmured, "I missed you."

As Methos turned around, he suddenly found himself enfolded in Kronos' arms. The Emir pressed his lips to the Ancient's, plundering that mouth. His hands caressed the slender frame. Methos tried hard not to pull away, though he was revolted by Kronos' touch.

Not releasing his hold on him, Kronos led the Immortal towards the bed and pushed him onto the soft mattress. Before Methos could move, his clothes were torn open.

"Don't worry!" Kronos chuckled. "I'll have new ones made for you, Brother!" He then swiftly removed his own garments.

Methos shuddered as Kronos showered his body with kisses. His lips nipped the ivory skin, leaving red marks. When his tormenting mouth found the tiny nipples, Methos gasped, arching his chest upwards. As Kronos sucked and bit on his hardened nubs, his fingers sought the hard member between Methos' legs, stroking and pulling it hard.

When Kronos squeezed him, Methos complained, "No! It hurts!!"

"You've grown soft, Methos. Maybe I should refresh your memory of the lessons I had taught you."

Saying this, Kronos gripped Methos' thighs and spread them wide apart. Without any preparation at all, he then thrust hard into the Immortal's body that a pain-filled cry escaped the Ancient's lips.

While Kronos rammed his iron-hard cock inside him, Methos remembered a  
similar situation, wherein he was like the evil ruler – the aggressor, the rapist. He could still remember the soft sobs of Duncan when he had taken him. Methos did not realize that he was crying as well.

Yes, Kronos! his mind screamed. Make it rape! Make me pay for the things I have done to Duncan!

Methos did not know he was already screaming as they neared the peak. "Yes, Kronos! Harder! Fuck me harder! I need the pain! Give it to me!"

Their orgasm was explosive. As Methos came all over Kronos' belly, he felt the Horseman gush his fluids inside his body.

"Gods, Methos!" Kronos laughed as he showered Methos' flushed face with his kisses. "I never knew you still had it in you!"

Then, a metallic crash jarred them to alertness. Together, the two men turned in the direction of the sound. Methos' jaw dropped in shock.

Duncan stood beside the table, his hands pressed to his veiled face. At his feet lay the fallen tray, goblets and a shattered bottle of wine that he had dropped when he beheld the shocking sight that greeted him when he entered the room.

"Well, look who we have here!" declared Kronos. Pulling roughly out of Methos, he climbed down from the bed and went towards the trembling figure. Grabbing the concubine's arm, he pulled the younger man towards the bed.

"Methos, Brother," the evil ruler began, "Let me formally introduce you to my favorite catamite." He then said in obvious displeasure, "Unfortunately, I have told him time and time again not to wear any clothing in my presence. I cannot understand why he loves this desert garb. You couldn't see a thing. I prefer him in the soft silk of a caftan or a kimono."

Duncan could barely look at Methos. He was pulling his veil tightly over his face.

"Didn't I tell you not to wear a veil before me?" Kronos roared at the frightened man.

Methos gazed disapprovingly at the Horseman. "It's not necessary, Kronos!"

"What kind of whore is he that he hides his beauty? That's why I decided to make him the best concubine in the entire world in the first place -- because he is such an exquisite picture of loveliness. I had him trained by the best whores and sodomites in Japan and Algiers. I almost lost him in Japan, when his…friends…tried to help him escape. One of them even cut me in the face. That's how I got this scar. But, as you can see, I got my lover back, and I don't intend to ever let him go. He will always be mine."

Suddenly, Kronos gripped the right shoulder of Duncan's shirt and ripped it open, baring the hateful brand at his right shoulder. Methos could barely hide his revulsion at the sight of that brand.

"As you can see I have placed my mark on him. It will also serve as a reminder of who he is to me." As Methos gaped in stunned silence, Kronos kissed the brand. "My precious whore!"

"That's enough, Kronos!"

There was an insane smile on the Horseman's face. "Ah, but we haven't come to the best part." Viciously, he ripped the veil from the whoremaster's face. Before he could turn away, Kronos grabbed him by the cheeks and forced the younger man to look into Methos' startled eyes.

The Ancient gasped, beholding at long last that handsome face. The face of the child he once loved, now grown into a man.

"NO," Methos shook his head in disbelief. Although he had known the truth for quite some time, finally seeing the reality was a great shock to him.

"Brother," Kronos began, giving the concubine a loud slobbering kiss on the cheek, "I'd like you to meet your laird of the keep – DUNCAN MACLEOD OF THE CLAN MACLEOD!" Saying this, he shoved Duncan into Methos' arms.

At once, the concubine fell to his knees, his expressive doe eyes mirroring his terror. "Methos, please! Let me explain!"

"What do you say, Brother?" Kronos interrupted, winking. "Like old times?"

The concubine clung, begging, to the Ancient's legs. "Methos, I'm sorry I deceived you! I beg you to give me a chance to explain! Please, Methos, don't do this to me! I LOVE YOU!"

Methos closed his eyes, but still those pleas and those tear-filled orbs reached him. He did not want to hurt the whoremaster. However, the danger posed by Kronos and the Odalisk hung over them like the sword of Damocles.

Although his heart was breaking, he looked at the leering visage of Kronos. With all the strength he could muster, Methos answered, "Yes. Just like old times."

 

Duncan was running through the dark hallways, tears of shame streaming from his eyes. He clutched his torn robes around his body, but the blood continued to flow between his legs. In his anguish at the Ancient's betrayal, he was unmindful of the pains in his body. All he could feel were the shattered pieces of his heart inside his chest.

He could still hear Kronos' words ringing in his ear. "Yes, Brother. You know that I am not a selfish man. I will share him with you."

"NO!" Duncan sobbed that one word over and over again, as he stumbled through the corridors.

"Duncan, wait!" he heard Methos suddenly call behind him. "DUNCAN!"

"Leave me alone!" the whoremaster cried. "Go away and leave me alone!"

But the Immortal was a fast runner. A hand gripped his arm and he was pulled into Methos' warm embrace. Duncan struggled to break free, but the Ancient would not let him go.

"Duncan, please! Be quiet! Someone might hear us!"

"Why, Methos? WHY?" Duncan demanded. "Is this your way of tormenting me? Haven't you taken enough from me? Haven't you ruined my life enough? Do you now have to join your Brothers in feasting upon my body? Is this your revenge?"

"NO!" the Immortal exclaimed in horror. "I never knew Kronos would pull something like this. Did you think I wanted to hurt you? I had to do it so that he wouldn't know how close we really are." Methos shook his head in dismay. "Why didn't you tell me who you really were, Duncan? Why didn't you tell me the truth?"

"I wanted so hard to believe that I could still become a warrior. That's why I hid my identity from you. That's the only way that I could get the courage up to ask you to teach me. I know how much you hated me, even if I was innocent of what you had accused me of back then" Duncan gazed at Methos through anguished doe eyes, his hands trembling as he pressed his torn clothes over his bruised and battered form. "And you taught me the most important lesson I had ever learned in my entire life. That I could NEVER be a warrior! I will ALWAYS be Little Whore, the favorite catamite of the Four Horsemen!"

Saying this, Duncan wrenched himself out of Methos' grasp and ran away from him. Methos could only stand and watch helplessly as the concubine disappeared at the end of the hallway.


	8. Chapter 30

 

**CHAPTER THIRTY**

If Methos thought that the concubine would at last attain a new height of rebelliousness, as was his intent, he was gravely mistaken. As the days wore on, Duncan had undergone a startling transformation. Gone was the stubborn whoremaster he used to know. In his place was the 'Little Whore' Sanchi -- timid, submissive, all hope lost.

Methos abhorred the perversions Kronos and Caspian inflicted upon the poor concubine. He and Silas tried to be gentle with Duncan, to ease his sufferings any way that they could. However, their depraved Brothers always made certain that they too participated in the younger man's debauchery. Dismay, regret and guilt never failed to rise inside the Ancient's heart whenever he peered into Duncan's face as he was taking the whoremaster. Nothing but a blank; devoid of all emotion. There wasn't even a glimmer of tears in those beautiful brown eyes.

During that first night, Silas had noticed the change in the concubine, and the Horseman was unable to contain his fury. The next morning, Silas had confronted the Ancient, demanding, "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM!"

"Kronos caught me by surprise," Methos had answered in despair. "I lied when I told you that I didn't know who he was. If it were not for the sketch of him that the Bandit Chief's son made in my journal, I would never have known that the Emir's precious whore was, in truth, the loving child whom I had cherished and, soon after, learned to hate. That he was Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. But nothing could have prepared me for the reality when Kronos revealed his identity to me."

The Immortal had leaned against the wall, clutching his aching head. "I didn't know what I was thinking. I dread to imagine the terrible fate that is waiting for him here. If he were to learn how to hate once more, perhaps Duncan would find the will to resist Kronos' plans for him. But I never expected this."

"You, Methos, are an idiot! I told you this before. Duncan's love for you is much stronger than his hate. Don't you see what you've done? You've successfully broken his spirit as well as his heart. With his present state of mind, he'll do everything that Kronos will command him to!"

"Duncan will never do that!"

At that denial, an angry Silas raised a beefy fist and struck Methos in the face, sending him sprawling to the floor.

The Horseman's clenched fist shook as he looked down at his Brother. "You're supposed to be the oldest of us all and, yet, you know nothing! Have you been so blinded with hate that you cannot see your own faults? Damn you, Methos! You've already destroyed Duncan's life! Should you be the cause of his death as well? Should you be the one to send his soul into perdition?" Silas gritted his teeth. He turned on his heels and started to walk away. "You don't deserve him, Methos," the Horseman spat out in disgust.

Silas was already gone, but the Ancient was still on his hands and knees, the blood from his mouth, dripping to the floor.

"You don't deserve him, Brother."

As his tears mixed with his blood, Methos muttered, "Do you think I don't know that? But I must try, Silas. I must try to be deserving of him."

This was why, a week and a half later, the Immortal found himself standing in the middle of the salle, waiting. His hand tightened and loosened around the hilt of his Ivanhoe, timing the movement with the increasing pace of his heart. There was a nagging fear inside him that the concubine would not come. Then again, he had asked a favor of someone to fetch Duncan, and Methos knew that this was someone who would never take 'No' for an answer.

Sure enough, outside, the Ancient heard insistent whinnying. The door opened a crack and Moeru pushed Duncan, stumbling, inside the salle. Methos was dismayed by the absence of expression on the younger man's face. Yet, at the sight of the Immortal, Duncan stopped near the door. Undaunted, Moeru gently butted the concubine in the butt, nudging him forward until the two men were face to face. The colt gave Methos a conniving wink and trotted a safe distance away to watch them spar.

Casually, Methos bent down and picked up Duncan's katana, which lay at his feet. Handing it hilt first to the concubine, he said, "It's time for us to begin our training once more, Duncan."

No response. Not even the blink of an eye.

From the corner, the Ancient heard Moeru give him an encouraging whinny. Nodding to the colt, Methos approached the whoremaster. Taking Duncan's right hand, he pried open those cold fingers and laid the sword into his open palm. The Immortal then closed those same fingers around the katana's hilt.

Smiling up into that handsome face, Methos declared with good cheer, "There you go! Perhaps now we could get started."

But then, as the Immortal released the concubine, the katana fell out of Duncan's grasp, his lovely brown eyes staring blankly at a point on the floor. The emptiness in those exquisite orbs was something Methos could not take. Letting out a frustrated cry, he  
stormed towards the younger man.

As Moeru looked on in shock, the Ancient grabbed Duncan by the upper arms and began shaking him roughly.

"Duncan? DUNCAN!" roared Methos. "Damn it! Wake up! I've never known you to be a quitter! Do you want to be a whore for the rest of your life? Do you want to play catamite to a minion from Hell? You know what your destiny is -- to become a great warrior! Have you forgotten your dream?"

The concubine, however, remained unresponsive, like a limp rag doll in the Immortal's hands.

"GOD DAMN IT, DUNCAN! SNAP OUT OF IT!" Methos raised his hand and gave the whoremaster a fierce slap on the cheek.

At the instant that Duncan hit the floor, Methos felt teeth sink into his butt. With a howl of pain, he craned his neck back to find Moeru gnawing viciously on his rump.

"MOERU, LET GO!" shouted the Immortal, moving his butt from side to side, hoping to dislodge the angry colt. "THAT HURTS, DAMN IT!"

Surprisingly, the colt did as he was told...only to lower his head and deliver a headbutt to Methos' behind, sending him sprawling towards the earthen pots and vases. Before the Ancient could check his fall, his head was popped inside a pot. Roaring in fury, Methos struggled to remove the pot that was stuck tight to his head. In the end, he broke the pot by slamming his stuck cranium onto the wall. As he cleared away the cobwebs, he heard soft giggles.

Growling, the Immortal turned to the colt. "So you think that's funny, eh, Moeru? You won't be laughing once I get my hands..."

Methos paused, seeing the stunned expression on Moeru's face. Slowly, he gazed at the concubine.

It was Duncan who was giggling, holding his belly as he did so, unmindful of the darkening bruise on his cheek. His giggles soon transformed into a full laughing fit, his whole body shaking with his mirth. The younger man's laughter was so contagious that both Methos and Moeru found themselves laughing and whinnying along.

Suddenly, however, the quality of Duncan's laughter changed, becoming slower, different in character. His body gave a violent heave, his handsome face scrunching up, as tears started to pour from his eyes. From mirthful giggles, it transformed into a keening wail that echoed throughout the salle.

Methos rushed towards the younger man and embraced him. Instead of the expected struggle for freedom, Duncan just sagged into his arms, his body hitching with the force of his weeping.

"No more! NO MORE!" Duncan wailed in utter desolation. "I don't want to live like this anymore! I just want to die! Oh, please let me die!"

Tears were pouring from the Ancient's eyes as well. His jaw hardening, he cupped concubine's face in his hands, bidding the younger man to look into his anguished eyes. "Duncan, stop crying! Please, no more tears! And please stop saying that you want your life to end! If you die, I'll follow you because I cannot live without you! There's still hope for you. FOR US! Please don't give up! I swear I'll find a way to get you out of this! You must be strong, Duncan! If you can't do this for me, then do it for those who care about you -- like Joseph, Khassim and Abdullah! And little Moeru...who's going to take care of him when you're gone?"

At the mention of the colt's name, Duncan slowly raised his head to find a teary-eyed Moeru peeking over Methos's shoulder. Reaching out to him, the concubine included Moeru in their warm embrace. The two men and the colt wept in companionable silence, sharing between them their love and the fear of the unknown destiny awaiting them.

 

Three days later, Duncan was sitting on his bed. Moeru was sleeping with his head on the young man's lap. The concubine was listlessly plucking at the tuft of white hair on top of the cold's head. He had just come from Kronos' chamber. A tear rolling down his bruised cheek and stinging the cut on the corner of his full lips, he tried to block out the memory of the sex games that the Horseman had subjected him to. But the squelching of fluids within him, the ache in his lower belly, as well as the crustiness of dried blood between his thighs only served to remind him of his true status.

"There's still hope for you, Duncan. FOR US! Please don't give up!"

"How could you still believe in me, Methos?" Duncan whispered. "After everything that's happened to us, even now that you know who I truly am, how could I still believe in your promises?"

"Maybe it's because he really means it now," a voice answered from the doorway.

The concubine turned to find Joseph closing the door. In his arms, the Watcher carried some old scrolls and a worn journal with a trefoil design on its cover.

Seeing that his ward was about to lapse into silence once more, Joseph said firmly, "Don't. What good is it going to do you to isolate yourself like this?"

"It's not isolation, Joseph," said Duncan, his voice flat. "It's called acceptance."

"Do you accept what is being done to you?"

"I don't have a choice now, do I."

"Methos does not accept it. He is doing everything he can to find a way to get you out of here."

The concubine looked at the Watcher, despair mirrored in his eyes. "I'm so confused. I don't know if I should believe him anymore. First, Methos tells me he loves me. Then, he breaks my heart. I don't understand!"

"Because, like you, Methos didn't have a choice but to act contrary to the dictates of his heart. That first time, he was forced to hurt you, fearing that Kamir might turn his jealous rage upon you. At that time, Methos was aware of how obsessed Kamir was with you. This second time, with Kronos, he wanted you to regain your hate for him."

"But why?"

"Kronos has plans for you, Duncan. Evil plans. He intends to use you as his key to world conquest. But you have to be willing for his plan to work. Apparently, and this is what Khassim and I, including Silas, believe, Kronos wants to utilize your obvious affection for Methos to his advantage. It may not seem like it, but Methos IS his hostage, his means of getting the one thing he wants from you."

"Kronos already owns me. What more does he want?"

Joseph handed the scrolls and the journal to Duncan. "The journal belongs to my predecessor. The answers to all your questions are in here. The scrolls are the plans to this Palace. Haven't you wondered how Methos and I came to your chamber that night the Horsemen hurt you?"

"To be truthful, I never gave it much thought, hurt as I was at that time," the concubine replied. "But now that you mention it..."

"I give these to you because you deserve to know everything. Knowledge is also a power on its own." The scribe shrugged. "Besides, I wanted to show you that you could trust Methos. His willingness to sacrifice his happiness just to see you free...it's proof enough that he loves you deeply. As I said, Methos would rather lose your love than let himself be used in the destruction of your soul."

It took over an hour after Joseph left for Duncan to get his courage up to pick up the journal and open it to the page the Watcher had marked for him. As he read through the entries with growing alarm and terror, the concubine just as meticulously studied the plans. His fingers trembled when he located the two secret passages leading to his chamber. The goosebumps rose on his skin as he wondered for how long he was being observed by the creature hiding within the catacombs. Duncan wondered if it was watching him now.

However, as time passed, Duncan found himself staring more and more at the plans. At one large chamber in particular. Enrapt was he that he did not notice that the sun had already set.

Probably sensing his Master's disturbing interest, Moeru woke up with a start. His coal black eyes blinked owlishly at the concubine. What he saw on Duncan's face caused the colt to shake his head in vehement objection.

But Duncan had already made up his mind. Kissing Moeru on the nose, he stood up and lit the brazier. He took a torch and lighted it with the flame from the lamp.

The colt's eyes were wide in alarm, seeing the concubine open the secret passage behind the dresser. Moeru quickly leaped from the bed, hoping to catch up with his Master. The floor, however, was slippery that he stumbled. Before Moeru could get up, Duncan had closed the door behind him, disappearing into the bowels of the Palace.


	9. Chapter 31

 

**CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE**

The pounding of Duncan's heart sounded like thunder in his ears as he walked through the catacombs. His body shook, but not from the cold. Hands trembling, he closed the lapel of his robe, goose bumps rising on his skin. As his frightened brown eyes roamed all over the dark, dank catacombs, the concubine could sense that something was watching him.

Duncan's hand tightened around the torch itself, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. No. I must not be afraid. I have to do this.

Swallowing hard, the concubine continued on his way, trying desperately to ignore the ever increasing pervasiveness of evil surrounding him.

As if guided by some unknown force, Duncan soon found himself standing before the two large, carved stone doors. He knew that imprisoned within that chamber was the infernal creature he had come to see.

Fear seized the concubine. Was there an incantation he needed to recite? he thought in a quandary. But there was no mention in the journal he had read. What does one say to a demon?

Not what knowing was appropriate, Duncan settled for a simple, "Hello?"

To the concubine's surprise, he was greeted by two deep, raspy voices -- one male, one female.

"A visitor!" the male declared in delight. "And a truly unexpected one at that!"

"But a very welcome guest indeed!" the female exclaimed, equally pleased. "You have surprised us, Little Prince. I suppose you told no one that you would be calling on us."

"No," the whoremaster shook his head cautiously. "I told no one. It was only today that your existence was made known to me."

"Kronos chose to keep it a secret from you until the right time comes," said the male. "From this, we could see that someone else told you."

Duncan nodded. Gazing at the closed doors, he said in confusion, "I don't understand. I thought there is only one of you inside this room. Yet, you are obviously two different beings."

It was the female who answered. "We are two in one and one in two. It makes no difference, in any case, because we share the same dreams, the same goals..." Silence. "The same desires."

The concubine checked the step back that he was about to make. "When my…Masters…hurt me, it was you who healed me."

"It was nothing," the male dismissed it casually. "We simply brought out that which was already in you right from the beginning."

Duncan humbly lowered his head. "Although your words confuse me, still, I would like to thank you for what you have done."

"So polite, so sincere!" gushed the female. "Little Prince, you are truly delightful!"

"Why did you come, Little Prince?" asked the male in amusement. It was apparent to the whoremaster that the male was aware of the reason for his visit. "It's not yet the right time."

"I..." Duncan stammered. "I wanted to ask you about the...the wish."

The female giggled. "So you've been told about that as well."

The concubine rushed towards the doors. "Please! I want to know. Is it true that I am the one to make the wish for my Masters?"

"That is correct," said the female.

"Only them?" Duncan asked. "Why not me? Can I not make a wish for myself?"

"One wish for only one master," the male repeated. Laughing, he remarked, "But it is difficult for you, Little Prince, since you have many Masters to choose from and only one wish to make."

"But...but...it can't be this way!" Duncan argued. "This isn't fair! It's my body that's going to be used for this damned wish!"

The two voices spoke in unison. "Yes, and such a lovely body you have!"

Duncan's doe eyes flew wide, seeing four red flashes from the small openings on the doors. Before the concubine knew what was happening, an invisible force lifted him up into the air and slammed him against the doors, with his arms raised on either side of him and long legs spread. To his horror, clawed hands reached through the holes of the  
doors and grabbed him, keeping him securely in place.

"You said this isn't the right time!" Duncan cried, shuddering all over, as those same hands holding him captive began to caress his body. "You can't do this to me!"

"But you came to us willingly, our pretty Prince," the voices whispered lasciviously.

"I'm not willing anymore!"

The male and female behind the doors burst into laughter. "Are you so sure about that?"

Then, the door opened a crack under his cheek. Clawed hands forced his head to face the opening. Duncan was shocked when icy lips began to smother his face with kisses. A forked tongue insinuated itself between his lips, licking the depths of his mouth. The foul taste of that tongue made him want to gag.

Thankfully, those loathsome mouths pulled away, but this was a temporary respite. Duncan was shocked to see that the top part of his robe has been yanked down his shoulders. He gasped as those same lips captured his nipples, greedily suckling the essence within. To his dismay, the concubine found himself responding to those ravenous lips and the feel of clawed hands caressing and fondling every inch of his body. When his erect cock was gripped, he eased his hips forward and back, letting his shaft scrape against the rough skin of that hand. Before he could come, that grip tightened around the base. Duncan groaned in frustration, shaking his head. Then, a strangled cry escaped his throat as his cock was sheathed in a moist, cold mouth. His body bucked violently as he lost all control. With wild abandon, he pumped his hips vigorously inside that hungry. Lost in the desires that were being elicited from him, Duncan did not notice that the two mouths were alternately feeding on the fluids leaking from his tumescent member. When he came at last, those mouths eagerly lapped up the seed that gushed out.

Weak as he was, Duncan slipped down to the floor, landing on his hands and knees, his luscious behind facing the crack. As his robes were raised, strong hands parted the mounds of his ass.

"Tell us what you want, Little Prince," the voices said in breathless anticipation. "TELL US!"

Although his heart and soul rebelled against it, Duncan's fevered flesh demanded the joining that was to come. Raising his ass enticingly, he cried out one word. "Yes! YES!"

Behind him, the Odalisk slowly reached out with eight arms, grasping Duncan's waist, eager to plunder the concubine's lovely body. Before the demon could succeed in its vile plot, a shimmering aura surrounded the whoremaster, jolting it with raw energy. The Odalisk screamed in pain and frustration.

Duncan sat on the floor, dazed, when he heard a Mikey's voice scream inside his head, "Run, Duncan! RUN!"

Swiftly, the whoremaster got to his feet and made to escape through the catacombs.

"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?"

Before he could flee from the Odalisk's domain, Duncan slammed into an invisible barrier, the collision nearly knocking him out. A scream was wrenched from his throat as that strong force hauled him back towards the doors.

"No!" the concubine cried, shaking his head, trying desperately to inch away from those doors. "Please don't!"

"You can't leave us like this, Little Prince," said the male chidingly.

"Not when you haven't satisfied us yet," the female added.

"But you've tried and you couldn't take me," argued Duncan. "I only came to seek answers to my questions. I didn't come here to play whore to you!"

"Now, perhaps not," the two voices of the Odalisk said in unison. "But you will come to us in the end."

"NO! NEVER!"

"It is inevitable, and you know it. When the sun vanishes from the sky, we shall possess you at last."

"You need me willing. I will never come to you willing!"

"Do you think you will not? We've waited so many years for you. We could afford to wait a few days longer."

"What's going to happen then?"

Laughter. "You'll see. We think you're going to enjoy it, just as much as we...if we are to gauge it by your response earlier."

Despite his fear, a blush rose up Duncan's cheeks at that answer. "No, what I meant was after, after the...wish. You're going to destroy the world, aren't you?"

Tongues clucked and the concubine thought he could see eight clawed fingers wagging in the darkness. "One thing at a time, Little Prince. One thing at a time."

"I won't let you do this," Duncan declared strongly. "I'll do everything I can to stop you!"

"That's the last thing we expected to hear from you...after the things you went through. Don't you want to have your revenge on those who did this to you?"

"But not at the expense of innocent people!"

There was more laughter. "Little Prince, you are indeed a prize! And a worthy adversary!"

"Don't speak to me in riddles!"

"What kind of demon would we be if we tell you everything? Rest assured that you, my sweet Prince, will play a major role in this drama. It's up to you what part you would choose -- the hero, the villain or the victim. All depending upon one little wish that you  
will utter from your luscious lips."

Duncan shook his head firmly. "No, I will not be your pawn in the world's destruction!"

"Like we said, Little Prince..." The Odalisk reached out and caressed the concubine's cheek. "It's all up to you. A pity that you have so many Masters to choose from. A word of advice. If you want to save your world, choose wisely. Now, leave us, Little Prince. It looks like you are in need to complete our tryst, no matter how much you say that you didn't want it. You may do so with your Masters. We shall see each other again soon enough. When that time comes, it shall be you and we."

The demon's laughter rang out through the catacombs. Fear overwhelming him, Duncan fled from the infernal chamber. It seemed like he had ran for miles. So it was to his immense relief when he finally reached his chamber. Breathless, the concubine closed the secret panel behind him. Moeru, at once, trotted towards him, the worry reflected in his coal black eyes.

Getting down on his knees, Duncan embraced the colt hard. "I'm all right, Moeru! I'm all right."

The concubine's heart nearly jumped when someone suddenly asked, "Where have you been, Duncan?"

Duncan slowly looked up find Methos and Silas standing beside the bed, concern in their eyes.

 

"Where the hell is he?" Methos growled in frustration as he and Silas made their way back to the whoremaster's chamber, Moeru following at their heels.

Earlier, the colt had gone to the Ancient's chamber in a panic. The two Immortals immediately went to Duncan's room, only to find it empty. In their fear, they ignored Moeru's frantic gestures and hurried outside the hallway. Not wanting to reveal the concubine's disappearance to their Brother, they searched throughout the Palace. But no sign could be found of Duncan.

Silas turned pale, realizing something as they went back to the whoremaster's chamber. "By the gods! I hope he isn't in the place where I think he is!"

As they neared the bed, as if in answer to the Horseman's suspicion, the object of their search made his entrance through the secret passage. Overjoyed, Moeru ran towards his Master, who embraced him in immense relief.

"Where have you been, Duncan?" Silas found himself exclaiming.

"Do you know that you scared us half to death when we found you gone?" Methos declared as well.

Duncan could not answer at first, as tremendous heat suffused his body. He clutched the lapel of his robe with a cold, clenched fist. Turning to Moeru, he whispered, "Little friend? I need to speak to my two Masters in private. Please?"

Moeru cocked his head to the side, looking at his Master quizzically. Nevertheless, he obediently did as he was told and quietly walked outside the room.

When they were alone at last, the concubine stood up, keeping his head lowered, his face covered by his hair.

Silas' eyes grew wide in alarm. "Duncan...you saw it, didn't you?"

"Yes...and it made me rouse to it!" To the shock of the two men, the whoremaster let his robe slip from his shoulders, the garment pooling at his ankles. His arousal was a tempting sight both Methos and Silas found difficult to ignore.

"Did it..." Methos was afraid to ask. But he blurted out, "Did it take you?"

"No." Duncan lifted his head to reveal tears rolling down his cheeks. "But it made me feel so filthy! More than anyone else, it made me feel like a true whore!"

"Duncan..." the Horseman started to ask in concern.

"Please!" the concubine begged them earnestly. "I know you're not like that...that thing! You could show me that it doesn't have to be that way!"

"Little Whore..." Silas took a step forward, but Methos blocked the Horseman's way with an outstretched arm. He looked at his Brother in alarm. "Methos, surely you're not..."

Rather than answer, Methos went towards the weeping younger man. Seeing him approach, a heartbreaking smile formed on the concubine's face.

"Methos! Yes!" Duncan exclaimed, hands raised to the Immortal. "Thank you! I hoped it would be you! I know you love me!"

But when Methos was face to face with the whoremaster, a sharp exhalation was elicited from Duncan's lips. To Silas' shock, the concubine collapsed onto the crook of the Ancient's arm. As he peered closely, the Horseman saw that Methos' hand was clenched in a tight fist, which he had used to punch Duncan in the belly.

Suddenly, Methos pointed a finger at the secret panel from which the whoremaster had earlier emerged. "I know you're there! If you think I'm going to allow you to use Duncan as your tool to sate your unbridled lust, you're wrong! Duncan will never be yours, do you hear me? NEVER!"

An angry roar echoed throughout the Palace and a putrid stench filled the air. Moeru, who had actually been eavesdropping outside the door, suddenly burst through the door and leaped into a surprised Silas' arms, shaking all over.

"You win this time, Immortal!" the Odalisk declared in its male and female voices. "But he'll be mine in the end! MINE!"

Then, the sickening aura of the demon faded away and peace returned to the Palace once more.

Methos sighed in relief. "It's gone...for now!" He lifted the unconscious whoremaster in his arms and laid him on the bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

Doing the same with the colt, Silas declared, "Get in there, you cowardly midget!"

Moeru bared his teeth at the Horseman, but settled down beside his dearest friend, drifting off to exhausted sleep.

Silas turned to the Ancient. "Brother? For a while there, I thought you would..."

"Take advantage of him? In that condition?" Methos shrugged. "I thought it was you who were about to..."

"I must admit I was tempted. But…how did you know that it was the demon?"

"This...this has happened before. I don't know how I was able to resist the temptation."

Silas grinned. "It's your love for him that makes you strong."

Methos gazed sadly at the sleeping concubine. "Let's just hope that it is strong enough to save him from the terrible fate that is in store for him."


	10. Chapter 32

 

**CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO**

 

Duncan was lying face down on his bed, his wrists and ankles firmly secured to the bedposts. Before he could even catch his breath, he jerked at the bite of the lash on his back. If he looked in the mirror, he would see that his back would definitely have become a map of crisscrossing angry red lines. Then again, the concubine knew that his wounds would disappear by morning, thanks to the malicious demon who has been treating him.

The Immortal who was inflicting these injuries was sneering down at the helpless man. "Can you not even give me a little gratification by crying out, Little Whore?" Caspian asked him.

"What's the point in doing so, Master?" said Duncan in turn, flopping his head back down on the incense-scented covers. "I've gotten used to this kind of treatment. Perhaps in the old days... Now, it would seem false for me to pretend to be in agony when I am not."

"That is what you say," the Horsemen remarked, as he picked up a tiny teardrop from the whoremaster's cheek with his finger. "But your eyes speak otherwise."

Releasing the bonds, Caspian flipped the younger man over onto his back, the sudden movement causing Duncan wince. The Immortal had placed tight clamps on his nipples, which were attached to small chains that reached down to the ring around the base of his member and scrotum. Caspian gave those chains a cruel jerk. The concubine bit his lower lip to stifle the cry in his throat and turned his head to the side.

"Don't you get tired of doing this to me?" Duncan queried. "We don't always have to play these...these games."

"These sick games, you mean." Caspian pinched the clamp tight around the concubine's left tit hard that blood was drawn. "It gives me pleasure. Why should I stop? I've never been the kind of man for kissing and fondling to begin with."

"Maybe it's because you haven't had these done to you."

"Oh, but I have. With Methos, in fact. But I never got any satisfaction out of it. It was he who introduced me to these little games." The evil Immortal smiled dreamily. "It's unfortunate that Kronos has been taking up most of his time. I would have enjoyed a tryst  
with him. It's been a long time. I love the way his fiendish mind works -- both in the battlefield and in bed." Caspian noticed the strange expression on the younger man's face. "Are you jealous, Little Whore? True, you are beyond compare in bed. Methos, however, is more inventive. There is nothing he would not want done with his body."

"But that was because you and Kronos have twisted him back then. This is now. Methos has changed."

"Do you think he hasn't? Ah, my sweet catamite! When are you going to get it into your thick skull that if Kronos hadn't beaten him to you, Methos would have claimed your innocence first twenty-five years ago."

Duncan closed his eyes, remembering the man who was his childhood mentor -- his patience, his stories, his warm smiles. There were no signs of malice in him.

"Why are we talking about Methos anyway?" Caspian demanded. "Look! You want to weep over him again! Even back then, you were always crying over Methos."

"It's...it's because I failed him," Duncan whispered. "He was my friend and I failed him."

"Don't give yourself all the credit! He was a fool, just as much as you. Methos should have seen how Kronos desired you the minute he set eyes on you. He manipulated the both of you into getting in the position that you were that night. Kronos knew that you wouldn't resist seeing your teacher being fucked. His plan worked out too well, however. Methos escaped that night. But although Kronos lost a whore, he had gained another. And you are much prettier than our dear Brother."

Despite the painful clamps on his body, Duncan turned his back to the insane warriior. "Please! Let's not talk about Methos anymore!"

"You're right!" laughed Caspian. "I should be enjoying myself this evening."

The concubine felt the Horseman spoon against his raw back. He was unable to hold back his gasp as Caspian entered him dry. As the Immortal viciously thrust into his flesh, Duncan bit his lower lip so hard that blood was drawn. Caspian's right hand was roughly pulling on his clamped tits, while his left was stroking his engorged cock.

Wanting to keep his mind off the pain and the cruelty, Duncan blurted out, "What is your wish, Master?"

That question brought Caspian to a halt. "What did you say?"

"What is your wish, Master?"

Their bodies still joined, the Horseman flipped him over onto his back once more. With a feral gleam in his eye, he asked, "You've seen it, haven't you? The demon."

The whoremaster shook his head, wondering if he had made a grievous mistake in asking the Immortal this. "No, I haven't actually seen it face to face. But I have talked to it. It told me about the wish that I was supposed to make on my Master's behalf. But I have four Masters. I thought I should ask."

"Why that is so considerate of you!" Caspian declared, caressing Duncan's cheek. Then, he slapped the concubine hard in the face. "Do you take me for a fool? Even if I tell you my wish, I know that you would not ask this of the demon."

"How could you be so sure, if you don't tell me? Like the demon said, I have four masters. It said that I must choose. I swear, Master Caspian. I will not tell anyone what we've spoken about, especially not to Master Kronos."

Caspian mused deeply. "Now that you mention it, I haven't actually given it much thought. A wish, a wish. So many things to wish for. Same as Kronos, I would like the world in my hands -- to conquer, to destroy at my whim. Riches, perhaps? But I would have it if the world will be mine. I could also wish for you -- to have you for my whore for all eternity. But I would probably get tired of the same old fare. Sooo many choices."

Duncan swallowed hard, wondering if he should still ask this question. Knowing that there was nothing more that the Horseman could do to hurt him, he got his courage up and timidly queried, "If...if you're going to get tired of me, Master Caspian, could...could you not, instead, give your wish to me?"

The Immortal stared at the younger man incredulously. Before Duncan could act, Caspian pinned him down and forced himself upon the concubine. The cry that the deranged Horseman had been waiting for was drawn from Duncan's throat as the flesh of his channel was torn with every thrust, so that blood trickled down his thighs.

Panting, Caspian exclaimed, "Do...you...think...I...would...waste...my...wish...on...you? YOU'RE WRONG!" At the last, he spilled his copious seed into the whoremaster. Yanking his still firm cock out of the battered flesh, Caspian stood up, grabbing Duncan by the hair and forcing him up to his knees. Seeing that beautiful, tear-filled face gazing up at him, he declared, "Do you want my wish, Little Whore? You must satisfy me first to get it. Now, open your mouth!"

Duncan sealed his lips tightly, shaking his head. But Caspian took fistfuls of the concubine's hair and bent his head back, prying his jaws apart with hard fingers.

Positioning his now hard erection at Duncan's mouth, Caspian roared, "TAKE IT, YOU LITTLE SHIT! TAKE IT I SAY!"

Suddenly, there was an angry whinny. From out of nowhere, Moeru charged towards the two men. With a fierce head butt, the colt bumped the Immortal off the bed.

"YOU AGAIN?" cried Caspian from the floor. He searched desperately for his broadsword, but realized that he had left it in his chamber.

Duncan was clinging tightly to the furious colt. "MOERU! STOP IT!"

But Moeru was kicking out, foaming at the mouth. His black eyes were blazing with flames to do the insane Immortal serious harm.

As Caspian stood up, he pointed an angry finger at the animal. "I know what I'm going to wish for! I'm going to wish that little animal to suffer the most agonizing death! I'll have you roasted alive on an open fire! I'll be laughing as I watch you die and I'll be eating your tender meat!"

Moeru broke free from Duncan's grasp and leaped for the ranting Immortal. He was making loud noises with his teeth, his coal dark orbs focused on the thing hanging between Caspian's legs. Realizing what the colt was about to do, fear overwhelmed the Horseman. Remembering the near loss of his manhood to the colt, Caspian dashed out of the chamber, Moeru in hot pursuit, and banged the door behind him.

When he was gone, Moeru gave a disgusted snort. Smugly, he trotted over to the bed and leaped into the surprised concubine's arms.

"Moeru?" Duncan asked in bewilderment. "Where the hell did you come from?"

The colt gestured to the opening behind the mirror. He knew that the passageway led to Methos' chamber.

"Did Methos tell you to guard me again?" the concubine queried.

Moeru gave a snappy nod, his mane flying.

The whoremaster could not help the relieved smile that formed on his lips. Although he knew that the Ancient was not there, he could still envision Methos' handsome form in the mirror.

"Thank you, Moeru," whispered Duncan as he embraced the colt. "And thank you, Methos, wherever you are." Recalling how Caspian wished for a gruesome death for the little horse, he mused to himself, One down. Three more to go.


	11. Chapter 33

 

**CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE**

"Master Silas? Master Silas?" Duncan wandered around the Royal Stables, frowning, as he looked for the Horseman. "That's strange. He's usually here at this time. I wonder where he could be?"

Walking behind the concubine was Moeru. The imperious little colt had his head lifted, not even bothering to look at the other horses and colts. To their credit, the royal equines chose to pay no mind to their snooty diminutive relative.

Seeing the airs that Moeru was putting, Duncan grimaced. "Moeru? Humility is not a part of your vocabulary, is it?"

Human and horse searched for the missing Immortal for a few more minutes, but they could not find him anywhere.

"It looks like Master Silas is not here, Moeru," the whoremaster told the colt. "Let's go back inside the Palace. He might be eating in the kitchen. Come on! I know a shortcut."

Duncan's shortcut led them near the grazing field where small hills of hay were stacked. As usual, Moeru had his chin raised, eliciting snorts of disgust from the veteran war steeds. Nearing one haystack, the concubine did not notice the soft rustling within it as he passed by.

However, when the snooty colt was about to trot by the same haystack, a large, hideous figure jumped out with arms raised above his head.

"WAAAAAAH!" it roared aloud, causing Duncan to nearly jump out of his skin. For a moment, the whoremaster thought it was the Odalisk, running amuck.

The same could not be said for Moeru. The colt let out an ear-piercing shriek of terror. As the concubine gaped in shock, Moeru fell over on his back, legs raised stiffly in the air, in a dead faint.

"MOERU!" Duncan cried worriedly, rushing towards the colt, afraid that his beloved pet had died from the shock. Pressing his ear to Moeru's chest, he was relieved to hear a strong, yet very rapid, heartbeat.

"OOPS!" a sheepish voice declared from the haystack. "It looks like I overdid it!"

The whoremaster whirled around to see a chuckling Silas scratching his head, a Japanese demon mask in his hand.

"MASTER SILAS!" Duncan growled menacingly.

To his even greater surprise, the Horseman stumbled out of the haystack and ran towards the unconscious colt with a rule stick in his hand, measuring Moeru from hoof to back.

"DRAT!" Silas clucked his tongue in dismay. "I thought it would work!"

"'What' would work?" asked the concubine suspiciously, giving the Horseman a 'this-had-better-be-good' look.

"It's been said that a good scare could make someone taller," the Immortal grinned guiltily. "This wee midget needs a good inch or two."

"Send him to the grave is more like it!" Duncan retorted angrily. "For someone at your great age, the least I expected was for you to believe in old wives' tales."

"I may be great in stature but I'm lacking in brains. I could spare a couple of my inches to this dwarf."

"Don't say that you're stupid!" Duncan hastily scolded him.

Silas shrugged, already accustomed to being thought of as an idiot to begin with. "Well, anyway, at least the runt isn't dead. Maybe I should try those Chinese growth balls. They're great for midgets."

"Would you please stop calling Moeru a 'runt' and a 'midget'? He doesn't like to be teased about his height."

"Then, perhaps I should call him by the more distinguished sobriquet, 'miniature horse'."

A pout formed on the concubine's lips. "It's the same thing. It just sounds nicer."

The Horseman said mischievously. "I love it when you're angry."

Before Duncan knew what was happening, Silas had swept him off his feet and carried him towards the far pile of hay under the date palm. The two men laughed as they tumbled onto the sweet-smelling hay. With a pleased sigh, Duncan wrapped his arms around Silas's neck as the Immortal bent down to peel off his caftan. Loosening his trousers, the Horseman pulled out is erect member plunged it inside the concubine's wanting channel. Duncan's body bucked at that sudden penetration. With soft moans, he  
met the Horseman's awkward thrusts with graceful jerks of his hips.

An hour later, their ebbing passions found the two men lying naked, arm in arm, on the hay. Duncan ran tender fingers over Silas' short-cropped hair while the Horseman tweaked his nipples.

Silas raised a finger and traced the concubine's flushed lips. "Why were you looking for me, Little Whore? Surely it's not about the runt."

To this query, Duncan answered, "News travels fast in the Palace. If you did not know that I would be coming to you, you would not have been able to pull that surprise on Moeru."

"Touché," Silas mumbled before falling silent.

After a lengthy silence, the whoremaster asked quietly, "Well?"

"My desires are no different from Kronos' actually," the Immortal replied. "Like him, I want the whole world in my hands."

"But why? Why are all of you so obsessed with conquest?"

"Each of us has our own reasons. I know you've talked to Caspian, and I seriously doubt if you got the answer you wanted from him. He's not exactly...sane."

"Yes, I know. What about you, Master Silas? What's your reason?"

The Horseman sighed. "Even before I became what I am, I never liked people. Maybe it's because they didn't like me as well. Because of my height and my size, I was always considered an outcast, forced to live in the mountains. The only friends I had were the  
animals -- dogs, cats, wolves, bears. For years, I lived without any human companionship in the wilderness, and it suited me just fine. It was Methos who found me, who convinced me to join the Horseman. The rest, as they say, is history."

Hesitantly, Duncan queried, "Methos...What became of him?"

"He was a ruthless killer," Silas stated point blank. "We both shared the same hatred for humanity, but because of the things he had gone through, Methos' hate ran deeper. That's why he became the Horseman known as Death His blade was always drenched with the blood of both his adversaries and innocents."

It was Duncan's turn to fall into deep thought. After what Silas had told him, he wondered if he had made a big mistake in forgiving and giving his heart so quickly to the ancient.

Noting his silence, the Immortal continued, "But he's changed a lot, you know. The change began twenty-five years ago to be exact." Silas smiled knowingly. "Strange thing it was. I was expecting him to seek his revenge upon the child who had supposedly betrayed him. Instead, he vanished from the village and the next thing I heard, he married a loving woman named Alexa a year later. There were times when I wondered ifMethos was unconsciously trying to start a family for the sake of having a little boy of his own. As you know, for we Immortals, having children is impossible for us. But that's what I believed. That Methos wanted a little boy – like the child he loved and abandoned in a tower of a Highland keep."

At that remark, the more the concubine found that he could not speak.

"I still envy Methos up to now, you know," Silas admitted. "The world aside, if I  
were permitted to ask for a second wish, I would like to have a family of my own. To adopt a son and a lovely daughter..." He gazed into Duncan's gentle eyes. "Maybe have you for my spouse."

A blush rose on the whoremaster's cheeks. There was no need to ask Silas his second question. Despite his professed desire for world domination, he could see it in the Horseman's demeanor that he would willingly give up his first wish for the second. Duncan had to admit that the thought of a small cottage in the mountains, having children was very appealing to him...although, if he were to be truly honest with himself, it was Methos whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Still, Silas was also a man worthy of his affections.

As if reading his thoughts, the Immortal mumbled, "Then again, I know for a fact that your heart already belongs to another. But I hope you would consider me as worthy of you."

Duncan kissed the crown of Silas's head. "I promise you I'll think about it, Master Silas."

Laying his head on the concubine's chest, a chuckle escaped the Horseman's lips.

"What's so funny?" the whoremaster asked curiously, noting the Immortal's mirth.

"I just realized that we don't have to adopt a son," Silas giggled merrily. "We already have a youngling we could call our own."

Duncan thought deeply, but he still could not guess who the Immortal was talking about. Giving up, he asked directly, "Who?"

"Who else?" Silas burst into raucous laughter. "That little runt you call a horse -- MINI MOE!"

A howl of pain was wrenched from Silas' throat. As Duncan's eyes flew wide in alarm, he saw that Moeru had clamped his teeth tightly to a large hunk of the Immortal's right buttock. The concubine laughed uproariously, tears trickling from his eyes, as Silas started to run around the field, as naked as a jaybird, with a furious colt attached to his butt.

Between giggles, Duncan whispered, "Two down, two to go."


	12. Chapter 34

 

**CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR**

 

"Why, this is a very pleasant surprise!" the Odalisk exclaimed, its two voices truly delighted. "I never expected to see you here again so soon, Little Prince."

In truth, Duncan was trying to stifle his urge to flee, as evinced by his tight grip on the handle of the wicker basket he held in his hands.

With a timid shrug, he said, "I thought I'd come and visit you for a few minutes."

"How thoughtful of you!" the male aspect of the demon declared, with a hint of snideness. "But that's not the true reason why you came, is it?"

The concubine nodded in hesitation. "I...I just wanted to talk to you a little more." He raised his basket to the doors. "I brought some food for you and a bottle of wine."

"Thank you, Little Prince. Your thoughtfulness towards an evil being such as we is truly touching," said the female aspect graciously. "Not even Kronos or his Brothers have accorded us with such concern. Please! Won't you sit down? I wish I could offer you a  
chair, but as you can see, I have nothing in the form of furniture in this place."

"That's all right," Duncan assured it. "The floor would do just fine." He then settled down on the floor, very close to the carved doors, with the basket at his side.

As he pulled out two plates, the Odalisk queried earnestly, "So, what scrumptious meal do you have for us? Roasted human?"

"Of course not!" Duncan exclaimed with a hint of disgust in his voice. "I certainly couldn't kill people just to fill your empty stomach."

"If it's not roasted human, we don't want any of it."

The concubine could not hide his disappointment. "To think I cooked this especially for you. Forgive me for bothering you like this."

"Wait! Don't go!" the demon quickly said, before the mortal could leave. We apologize for our rudeness. Come now, Little Prince. Let us have a taste of this special meal you have prepared."

The door opened a crack. Duncan placed two pieces of the meal he had cooked on a plate and slid it through the crack. He then placed a piece for himself on his own plate and waited for the Odalisk's response.

"This is delicious," the demon praised. "My compliments to the cook. Little Prince, what is this delicacy that you have given us? It is certainly not like the bland desert fare we had in the past."

"It's called haggis, and it's a favorite dish in my homeland," the whoremaster explained. "It's made from the internal organs of sheep, mixed with suet, seasonings and oatmeal, after which I boiled it in the sheep's stomach."

The plates slid out. "May we have more, please?"

Duncan willingly filled the plates with haggis. He paused before he could hand over the meal. "Why don't you come out and join me? I prefer to have company during a meal like this."

There was a moment's silence. "Are you certain you want us for company?"

"Any good reason why not?"

"Have you forgotten what we are?"

"No. But if I am going to be sacrificed to you in a few days, I would prefer to see who I'm going to make love with this early."

"Make love… Yes, to see us now is a good idea. To lessen the shock, so to speak for that time. Very well. We accede to your wisdom. However, we must warn you. We are not a pretty sight."

"I'm ready," Duncan said firmly.

At that pronouncement, the door opened wide and the Odalisk emerged from its chamber. The concubine's jaw dropped, his exquisite eyes widening as his terror grew.

The demon was a gruesome sight to behold. Standing eight feet tall, it had two heads -- one male, one female -- their long hair tied in ponytails. A colorful sarong was wrapped around its obviously masculine body, although Duncan could see the swell of full breasts peeking at the top. The palms of the Odalisk's eight hands were pressed together before it in the traditional Hindu greeting. As it bowed, the two heads smiled broadly, revealing razor sharp teeth.

Noting the concubine's intense stare, the male head remarked, "Remarkable! I expected you to run screaming from our presence."

"That's what happened to the last sacrifice," the female head explained. "It took tremendous coaxing on the magician that Kronos had hired to get her to return. Maybe it wasn't too much of an effort for him. She too was as greedy as her Master."

"I must admit I was shocked when I beheld you at last," Duncan said truthfully. "But the more I look at you, the more I am not repulsed. For a demon, you do not look so bad at all. Please! Have a seat and I will serve you."

The Odalisk eyed the human suspiciously for minute, before sitting down in a Lotus position. Duncan went about serving the demon more haggis, bread and poured wine generously in its goblet. When the Odalisk began to eat, so too did he partake of his meal.

"How goes your quest for your true Master?" the demon inquired.

"I have already conversed with Caspian and Silas," admitted the whoremaster. "Only Kronos and Methos remain."

"Ah, yes! Methos! His heart cries out for you, you know. No man has dared to stand against me, certainly not alone as he had done."

"I wish I could say that my feelings for him are the same. To be honest, I still feel very confused. I want to love him. But when I remember the hurts he had inflicted upon me, it overwhelms the calling of my heart."

"You humans are very fragile beings, letting ill emotions take precedence over what one truly feels. Humans are created to suffer. You, in particular, Little Prince, suffer so beautifully. A perfect blend of submission and rebellion in one lovely package."

"A person could only take so much hardship." Duncan cast his eyes down. "I have my limits, and I'm afraid I'm already close to falling over the edge."

"That is why you are determined to be free at any cost," the Odalisk said thoughtfully. "That is why you are being so meticulous in your choice of a Master who could make a wish that would be to your benefit."

The concubine nodded slowly.

"This brings us to an important question. Why come to me? I am not the one to make your choice for you, Little Prince."

"True, but if the sacrifice does push through in the next few days, my soul shall be  
yours, which will make you my Master. Even now, as I serve you, when you have made me respond to your desire, you have shown that you ARE one of my Masters."

"However, I am not in the position to make a wish. I grant them...at a price, and you are it."

"But if it were possible," Duncan insisted, "what would you wish for?"

The two heads of the demon glared at the mortal. "You ask too many questions, do you know that?"

"It's only now that I have asked a question, my lord and lady. If it is too personal a query, then I withdraw it. It is not my intent to be impertinent. After all, I am just a lowly whore."

The Odalisk lapsed into deep thought, both its heads lowered, eyes gazing down at a point on the floor. "Little Prince, I'm afraid that I could only answer your question with another question. What do you think does a demon like we wish for?"

"I don't know. That is why I asked."

"Our desires are no different from you humans. Look inside yourself and you will have your answer." The demon got to its feet. "I must leave you now."

"Forgive me for my inquisitiveness," Duncan exclaimed in alarm, fearful that he had indeed hurt the Odalisk's feelings. "I did not mean to offend you."

"It's not that. Having you in close proximity is trying on our self-control. Not being able to touch you, to rut with you...it's enough to drive us mad."

Before it could retreat inside its chamber, it heard the concubine call out. "Please don't go! Not yet! There's still something that...I have a gift for you."

Hearing that last, the Odalisk became curious, turning around slowly. Its eyes grew wide at the sight it beheld.

Duncan had let his bed gown fall, so that the garment was bunched around his waist and a bit of it on his lap. In his hand, he held the carved phallus.

"I found this in my chamber," the whoremaster revealed to the demon. "I believe that it is only when I am asleep, and through this, that you are able to find sexual satisfaction." A shy smile formed on Duncan's lips, blushing furiously. "Now is not the right time for what you truly desire. This does not mean, however, that I could not give you pleasure." The concubine pulled off his bed gown completely and lay down on the floor. "My mind is open to you. Show me how I could please you."

The Odalisk stared at the concubine in shock, unable to believe what it had just heard. Still, it was a temptation he could not resist. After a brief hesitation, it did what the human requested and exerted its power on him.

Duncan gasped, his body arching upwards, as delicious heat suffused him from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. Raising his hands, he let his fingertips flutter over his eyelids, sealing them close. At the demon's urging, the concubine caressed his cheeks, feeling the contour of his bones. Crossing forward, Duncan's fingertips traced the shape of his full lips. His tongue licked his lips moist and his fingers one by one.

With a soft moan, the whoremaster let his hands trail down his neck and shoulders. His arms crossing above his chest, Duncan hugged himself tightly, his body swaying, legs closing tight as luscious heat was concentrated on his groin and the wanting orifice between his legs. He knew that he was feeling the sensations that were being aroused in the female aspect of the Odalisk. Aiming to please, Duncan closed his hands over his chest, his palms tingling at the sweet touch of taut nipples. Taking his tits between his fingers, teasing and pinching them, at the same time that his hands kneaded his breasts. The whoremaster's efforts were rewarded by copious milk that spurted from his nipples. Fingers moist with his sweet essence, the concubine placed each digit inside his mouth. Duncan smiled, hearing the demon smack its lips.

Sensing the increasing ache of the male aspect of the Odalisk in his groin, the whoremaster did not hesitate any longer, for he too desired release. With a smooth glide over his flat abdomen, his hands closed around his aching cock, squeezing and stroking the shaft. To prolong the pleasure, Duncan alternately tightened and loosened his grip around the base of his cock and scrotum. However, he knew that he could not delay the inevitable. The whoremaster's cry joined with the male's as they came, spilling their seed onto the cold floor.

Unable to control herself, the female wailed in frustration, "But what about me?"

Duncan was coating the phallus with slick semen. When he was through, he spread his legs wide and positioned the tip over his opening. As he plunged the phallus inside him, he and the female screamed in ecstasy. The concubine bucked his hips upon the wooden member, allowing the female to guide his thrusting hands. The sensations being elicited in him were so intense that his fluids jetted out once more. However, this does not compare with the waves of female orgasms that washed over his body. For what seemed like an eternity, Duncan basked in the warm, lapping sea of desire and sated sex. As he pulled the phallus out of his body, he opened his eyes and saw the carved doors slowly closing.

"Thank you, Little Prince," the Odalisk said, truly grateful, its voice still husky with passion. "Thank you for a most wonderful evening."

Duncan gingerly got to his knees. Bowing before the doors, he answered, "My lord and lady, you are most welcome."

 

Moeru was waiting impatiently for the concubine inside his chamber. The minute Duncan emerged from the secret passageway behind his dresser, the colt followed after him, making scolding snorts. The more he made angry noises when his young master pulled out the carved phallus from inside his basket. Wrapping it in cloth, the whoremaster hid it at the very bottom of his chest.

Duncan knelt down and wrapped his arms around the colt's neck. "Please don't be angry with me, Moeru! It's something I had to do. I have to choose the right master. I cannot afford to make a mistake."

But Moeru shook his head, snorting and gesturing towards the secret passage his beloved friend had emerged from.

The concubine nodded. "I'm afraid the demon is also among my choices." He lifted the colt in his arms and carried him over to the bed. Opening his bed gown, he asked, "Are you hungry, Moeru?"

The colt shook his head once more. It was obvious to Duncan that Moeru was very upset, believing that the Odalisk had bedded his Master as well as indulged in that particular activity he truly enjoyed.

"It did not touch me, Moeru. I swear it! Please believe me, sweet friend!"

Seeing the truth in the concubine's tender eyes, Moeru whickered in apology and snuggled up to his beloved Master.

Duncan embraced the colt, fingers running through his soft coat. "I asked it what demons wish for. It said that its desires were no different from human beings." A tear fell down his cheek. "I thought I was the only one suffering. It's not just me, Moeru. I've lived with the pain, the tears and the loneliness for fifteen years. I don't think I could survive if I were to endure this for centuries."

Burying his face in the colt's mane, Duncan whispered, "It is so lonely, Moeru. That is why it desires any form of contact, especially intimate. No one deserves such a devastating, heartbreaking loneliness. Not even a demon like the Odalisk."


	13. Chapter 35

 

**CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE**

 

Something was terribly wrong. Methos could feel it in his gut. These past few days, he had seen less and less of the concubine, who has been spending more time Kronos and his brothers. Judging from Moeru's angry whinnying, the Ancient was convinced that Duncan was up to something. The question was WHAT? The whoremaster had not confided with either Joseph or Khassim, although Methos had been furious with the Watcher for having shown the concubine his predecessor's chronicle and the plans of the Palace. He tried getting answers from Silas, but the Horseman proved cryptic.

"Methos, this is something that Duncan must work out alone," Silas had told him.

Driven by worry and concern, Methos decided to approach Duncan directly, but the concubine was very evasive, avoiding any situation wherein he would be alone with the older man.

One night, the Ancient had successfully cornered Duncan in the hallways as he was heading for Kronos' chamber. Before the whoremaster could take the opposite direction, the Immortal trapped him between his arms propped on the wall.

"Why are you avoiding me, Duncan?" Methos went straight to the point. "I just want to talk to you."

"Forgive me," Duncan apologized, but unable to look into the older man's face. "I have duties to attend to."

"Did Kronos forbid you to see me or to talk to me?"

"No, he didn't but...I'm sorry. I'll see to it that I go to your chamber tomorrow night."

Methos gripped Duncan's arms, fingers digging into his skin. "I don't want that. Duncan, what are you up to?"

The concubine turned his face away, the guilt apparent in his expressive brown eyes. "Nothing."

"Nothing, my ass! What the hell have you been doing?"

"Serving my Masters! Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?"

"Are we back to your usual bullshit about being a whore?"

Duncan exclaimed in frustration, "Why are you making it so damned difficult for me?"

"I'M making it difficult for you?" asked Methos aghast. "Why do I have to do anything to make life difficult for you? You're doing it on your own!"

"All I want is to be left alone -- to be able to work out my problems on my own. Is that too difficult for you to understand?"

"And tell me -- just how are you 'working out your problems'? By spreading your legs to the Horsemen? Since you're obviously very determined to ruin your life, why don't you go straight to the Odalisk and let that accursed thing fuck you?"

A ringing slap fell on Methos' cheek. The Ancient gritted his teeth, hand clutching his cheek, as he turned sharply to the whoremaster. Duncan had both hands over his mouth, horrified by what he had just done.

"If that's the way you want it, fine," Methos answered bitterly. "You could go to Hell for all I care! But I'm not staying here to see you destroy your life!"

"You're right!" Duncan yelled back furiously. "Why should you care about what happens to me? I'm only helping you finish what you started twenty-five years ago!"

The Ancient did not offer a rebuttal. He simply turned his back to the younger man and stormed off. It was while he was heading back to his chamber that he bumped into Khassim, who offered him a suggestion.

Unaware of the encounter his fellow Ancient had earlier with the concubine, Khassim recommended, "I could see that the unknown future is still weighing heavily on your mind. May I offer you a little advice? Why don't you talk to the Oracle? She lives in a small cave in the Ahaggar Range." He handed Methos a map and told him the  
directions. "Go to her, my friend. I am certain that she could help you."

Methos took the map and muttered, "Thank you, my friend, but I don't think this is necessary anymore. After all, I already know how this tale is going to end."

The moor raised a quizzical brow. "Excuse me?"

"It's nothing," Methos shook his head. Smiling wanly, he said again, "Thank you, Khassim. I'll look at this before I go to sleep."

Without saying anything else, the Ancient went straight to his chamber and proceeded to pack. By midnight, Methos was dressed in traveling clothes. Standing from his bed, he slung his pack over his shoulder and secured his Ivanhoe to his back. Methos' eyes fell upon the map that Khassim had given him. Before he realized he was doing so, he picked it up and tucked it under his belt.

Quietly, the Immortal stepped into the empty hallway, walking through the dimly lighted corridors. For a brief second, he paused near the hallway where Duncan's chamber was. Rather than heed his heart's call, Methos's jaw hardened, continuing on his way to the Royal Stables. With the same single-minded determination, he saddled up Thanatos and buckled up his pack to it, as well as five skins of water. As he got on his horse, there was a snort of protest. To his surprise, Denko walked out of his stall and blocked his way, shaking his head, causing his mane to fly.

"I'm sorry, Denko" Methos told the concubine's prized war steed, revealing his deep sorrow. "But there's no reason for me to stay here any longer."

With a click of his tongue, the Ancient led Thanatos around the black Arabian. Denko did not make any further attempts to stop him. Emerging into the field, Methos flicked the reins, launching his stallion into a full gallop. As he rode out of the Palace, through  
the empty streets of Ain Mehira and out of the oasis itself, not once did Methos look back.

 

"What the hell am I doing here?"

The sun was high above his head, and Methos was wondering if the heat had not affected his brains. It was his intent to stop over at the bandit's camp at the Tademait Plateau before proceeding to El Djezair. Instead, through some unknown, much stronger urge, he found himself standing at the foot of a small mountain in the Ahaggar Range. As he trained his eyes up the rock face, sure enough, he saw the cave.

"Damn it!" Methos kicked at a rock, watching it skip over the sand and hit a boulder. Uttering another curse, he threw the cape of his burnoose over his shoulder and proceeded to climb up the mountain.

However, reaching the cave, Methos was slammed by the powerful aura of another Immortal. Climbing up on the ledge, he swiftly unsheathed his Ivanhoe. The Ancient cautiously entered the cave, weapon ready, peering into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of the enigmatic Oracle residing within.

"Who's there?" Methos called into the darkness. "Come out and show yourself!"

Suddenly, there was a bright yellow flash, blinding Methos for a moment. When he opened his eyes, there was a blazing fire before him. But what shocked him was the sight of the beautiful figure standing on the opposite side of the fire.

"It's been a long time, Methos," the Oracle smiled at the Ancient.

"CASSANDRA!" Methos gasped out, green gold eyes wide as he recognized the Oracle in an instant. "YOU? You're the Oracle?"

"One and the same!" Cassandra peeled off her gown, revealing to the stunned Immortal her voluptuous form. Methos gulped, seeing her full breasts and the gold curls between her legs. Walking around the fire, she commented, "You haven't changed a bit."

"Neither have you," he stammered as his former slave and lover approached him. "You're still very beautiful."

"Thank you for the compliment. You've always been a flatterer," she smiled teasingly. "So what brings you to my humble home? Are you here to rekindle old flames?"

Methos shook his head, but not in reply to her queries. There was something odd about Cassandra's voice. It seemed as if it was echoing all over his head, dulling his thoughts. However, her voice was eliciting unwanted sensations, desires from him.

An image of Duncan filled his mind, freeing him for a moment from the Oracle's hypnotic spell. "I need your wisdom, Cassandra. I need you to look into the future for me."

As Cassandra pressed her sensuous lips upon his mouth, Methos' knees turned to water and all memory of the concubine faded away. Long, slender fingers removed his clothing for him. He just found himself sinking to the cave floor, wrapped in the Oracle's embrace.

"You need my help, Horseman?" Cassandra giggled, with a laugh that the Ancient barely noticed was not exactly sane. "You have to pay the price. And believe me, Methos, I will make certain that you pay."  
&lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;  
&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;

Duncan was in the soldiers' barracks, tied to a huge barrel with legs bent at the knees and spread wide. A blindfold covered his eyes, so that he could not see the soldiers who were taking turns in using his body. Neither could he see Kronos' leering face, watching as the poor concubine's milk-laden nipples were sucked and chewed upon by many eager mouths. Duncan had no idea how many men had used him, how many had taken several turns upon his body. Given the laxity of his channel and the copious semen dripping out, he could only assumed that he had serviced Kronos' entire army.

The whoremaster winced as a hard hand slapped his private parts, followed by the entrance of another cock inside him, wiggling around his lax rectum.

"Tighten your ass, Little Whore!" Duncan heard Kronos command him sternly.

Breathing in deeply, he did as he was told. Although the pain was killing him, Duncan forced his ass to squeeze the Horseman's shaft inside him. As the ring of muscle at last tightened around Kronos' cock, the Immortal proceeded to fuck the concubine hard, reveling in the feel of that come-slickened flesh. With a blissful cry, Kronos spilled his seed inside the whoremaster's body, mixing with the fluids that have been poured within him.

A few minutes later, the Horseman yanked his flaccid cock out and untied the bonds on Duncan's wrists and ankles. He eased the concubine to a sitting position and removed the blindfold. Duncan blinked his tear-reddened eyes, adjusting to the light, until he could see again. When, at last, his vision cleared, he saw that he and Kronos were all alone.

The Horseman stated bluntly, "I heard that you've been making a few...inquiries."

Duncan lowered his eyes, afraid to look into that fierce glare that had never failed to terrify him. Knowing that it bodes ill for him to deny it, the concubine slowly  
nodded.

"Let me make this simple for you, Duncan, so that you would understand." Kronos painfully buried his fingers in the whoremaster's cheeks, forcing him to look into his eyes. "You have only ONE Master, and I happen to be that one. It is my wish that you will ask the Odalisk to grant and no one else's."

"But...but...what about Caspian and Silas? Are they not my Masters too?"

A hard hand swatted the concubine in the back of the head, causing Duncan to grimace in pain.

"You serve them at my behest!" Kronos declared. "I alone am your one true Master!"

"Master Kronos..." Duncan struggled to get his courage up. "I've served you well for all these years. Can you not...Please! I beg you!" Sobbing, he fell to his knees before the demented Horseman, whispering once more, "Please!"

Strong hands grabbed his hair, yanking his head up so that he could see the fury in the Emir's face. "You have the gall, whore? Do you think me a fool that I would waste the wish of a lifetime by giving it to you? FOOL!" Kronos struck the concubine hard that he fell to the floor, blood flowing from his mouth.

Duncan's anger rose. "YOU EVIL MAN! I will never do as you say! It will not be your wish that I will ask the Odalisk to grant!"

Kronos glared at his precious whore for a minute. Then, a cruel smile went up the corners of his lips. "I see that it is true that there is a rebellious streak in you. But it doesn't matter. In the end, it is I whom you shall obey."

"And what if I refuse?"

Kronos did not answer at first as he headed towards the door. Opening it, he paused. The concubine gaped in shock, hearing Horseman's reply.

With a shrug, Kronos said, "Then, your lover's life is forfeit." He then left the barracks, closing the door behind him.

For a while, Duncan just sat on the floor, unable to speak or move, his mind whirling. Completely forgetting the argument he had with Methos last night, the whoremaster donned his robe. Concern for the Ancient overwhelming all else, including the painful injuries of the rapes he had just endured, Duncan limped hurriedly inside the Palace.

Emerging into the Main Hall, the concubine bumped into Khassim. "Khassim, have you seen Methos?"

Khassim helplessly shook his head, not knowing what to say to the whoremaster. Rather than wait for the moor's answer, Duncan continued on his search. However, the Ancient was nowhere to be found. Thinking that Methos was resting in his chamber, he hurried through the hallway.

Joseph appeared at a side corridor, at once blocking the concubine's way.

"Duncan, we need to talk," the Watcher began, gripping the whoremaster's arm.

But Duncan shrugged Joseph's hand off. "We'll talk later, Joseph. I have to warn Methos!"

"But Duncan..." Before the scribe could stop him, the concubine disappeared at the end of the corridor. Shaking his head, he concluded what he was going to say, "It's about Methos!"

Duncan heaved a sigh of relief when he reached the wing where Methos' chamber was located. However, he came to a dead halt, seeing Silas standing outside the Ancient's chamber door, with Moeru bawling at his feet. At once, dread filled his heart as the Horseman approached him.

"I came to warn him, Master Silas," Duncan stammered, not knowing what to say exactly. "Master Kronos told me that he would have Methos killed if I don't ask the Odalisk to grant his wish. I have to tell Methos so that he would be careful and…."

Silas gently held the concubine's arms, shaking his head.

"What is it?" asked Duncan in growing alarm. "What's wrong?" His sweet brown eyes flew wide. "Please, no! Please don't tell me that…."

"He's well, Little Whore," the Horseman answered simply.

"If he is well, where is he? I want to see him."

Silas shook his head again. "He's probably far away by now, far from the reaches of Kronos."

A frown creased Duncan's brow. Pushing the past the Horseman, the whoremaster entered the room.

At once, Duncan felt his heart sink. The room was empty, all of Methos' things gone. Judging from the neatness of the chamber and the bed itself, it was obvious that the Ancient had made his hasty departure last night.

There was a gentle nudge on his thigh. As the concubine looked down, he saw Moeru gazing up at him, with tears in his coal black eyes. In his mouth was the ornamental hair tie of esparto grass, beads and crystals that the whoremaster had made for Methos.

With trembling hand, the concubine took the tie from the colt. Pressing it close to his heart, Duncan lay down on the bed, his back turned to Silas. He could still smell Methos' scent on the sheets. Moeru got into bed with him, snuggling close to his troubled Master.

"Little Whore?" the whoremaster heard Silas call in concern.

"I would like to be left alone," Duncan said softly, his voice hoarse with repressed emotion. "Please?"

"Duncan, are you all right?"

The concubine squeezed the tie tightly in his hand, hugging Moeru as well. "It's for the best. This way, he'll be free from Kronos' clutches. Methos will be safe."

"But what about you?"

"I'll be fine. I've always been alone. I'll survive...at least, until that time when I have to make the wish to the Odalisk. Till then, I'm a whore. What more am I supposed to do?"

Silas did not answer. Instead, he quietly closed the door.

When the Immortal was gone, the tears that Duncan had been trying to hold just burst forth. As he wept bitterly, his thoughts ran contrary to what he told Silas earlier.

"You told me not to cry anymore, but why do I always end up shedding tears over you?" Duncan sobbed pitifully. "Damn you, Methos! You promised you would never leave me again! Methos, please! Come back to me! Please come back!"


	14. Chapter 36

 

**CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX**

The next seven days passed in a haze for Methos. No thoughts of the past intruded inside his mind, not even the image of a handsome concubine with tear-filled brown doe eyes. His sole preoccupation was the siren in his arms.

Just like now. With animal grunts, the Ancient drove his cock hard inside Cassandra's ample behind. On her hands and knees, the Oracle was shaking her head, her blonde tresses whipping in the air, as she gave herself completely to wild passion. With moans and groans escaping her lips, she took Methos's hand that was gripping right hip and pressed it over her right breast. Instinctively, the Immortal's hand tightened around it, fingers pinching her nipple. Something inside him wanted to claim that hard pebble of flesh between his lips.

Pulling out, Methos flipped Cassandra onto her back. As he thrust inside her slick channel, the Ancient's mouth descended to her breast, chewing and suckling on the tit, trying to draw even a drop of fluid out. However, there were no sweet essences to be drawn out. Methos kneaded and squeezed her breasts to no avail.

It isn't the same, the thought suddenly crossed his passion-clouded mind. It wasn't like this. True, his breasts were not as full as these. He is a man after all! Still, his sweet milk, his luscious flesh, his tender lovemaking...

Methos's eyes snapped open. There was the difference. When he had coupled with the concubine, it wasn't just sex. They were making love. Despite his claims of hating the older man, Duncan's heart always betrayed him. Methos had never known such pleasure, such joy, such fulfillment before, not even with Alexa, may her soul forgive him. It was only with Duncan MacLeod that he truly felt complete.

At once, all desire waned. Cassandra glared darkly when Methos stood up and turned his back to her, staring at the light at the cave's mouth.

"I've stayed here long enough," Methos stated firmly. "Cassandra, I want answers this time."

There was the soft clicking of bones behind him. Slowly turning around, Methos saw the Oracle throwing the bones to the ground. With the tip of her finger, she touched each small bone.

Cassandra's eyes rolled up, revealing on the whites. With a monotonous drone, she intoned, "An evil one will come, to vanquish all before him. Only a Highland child, born on the winter solstice, who has seen both darkness and light, can stop him."

"A Highland child born on the winter solstice..." Methos gasped, kneeling down before the Oracle. "You're talking about Duncan MacLeod!"

An evil grin formed on Cassandra's lips. "Duncan MacLeod? That name is familiar to me. Your lover? Is he the one who took my place inside your heart?"

There was something about the expression on the female Immortal's face that made the Ancient uneasy. "He is...Kronos' whore."

"Ah!" Cassandra giggled in glee. "So this time, it is you who covets his whore. What's the matter, Methos? Doesn't Kronos want to share his catamite with you, the same way you two had shared me between you?"

"Cassandra," Methos said slowly, gritting his teeth, "I must know what this prophecy means."

The Oracle's eyes seemed to glitter like gold as she used her hypnotic Voice again. In a singsong manner, she answered, "If you want to know the meaning, then you must pay the price."

Methos shook his head, pressing his hands over his ears. "STOP IT! Stop playing tricks with my mind!"

But then, Cassandra's voice changed, transforming into a male baritone. As the Ancient looked up, he saw Duncan standing naked before him.

"Help me, Methos!" Duncan pleaded with him. "You must pay the price, so that you would know the meaning of the prophecy."

"Duncan?" Methos sobbed, slowly approaching the vision of the concubine. "Duncan, is it really you?"

The whoremaster raised his hands to the older man. "Methos, please! I need you! Make love to me!"

Succumbing to the illusion of his beloved, Methos fell, weeping, into those open arms.

Lost in the spell, he did not hear Cassandra laugh in triumph.

 

"Master Silas? I brought you some sweet buns, honey and wine."

Silas waved to the whoremaster who was peeking through his door. "Come in, Duncan!" The Horseman paused. "That little runt you call a 'horse' is not with you, is he?"

Duncan carried the tray over and laid it on the table. Sheepishly, he answered, "Actually...errr...he is."

Moeru's grinning head popped up beside the Horseman, teeth chattering. The tail of the concubine's caftan was draped on top of his head, so that Duncan's left leg and thigh were bared to Silas.

"Hello, Mini Moe!" Silas greeted the mischievous colt. "How are you?"

The colt laid his head on the table, still with that toothy grin, breathing on the Immortal's sweet buns.

"So you like sweet bread, huh? Do you like honey on it too?"

Moeru eagerly thumped his chin on the tabletop as he nodded.

Taking the knife, Silas generously slathered honey on the bun and held it out to the colt. "Here you go, Moeru! Why don't you take it outside and eat it? I need to talk to Duncan privately."

At once, Moeru's face darkened, with the expression that spoke clearly, "I knew there was a catch!" The colt shook his head.

"Come now!" Silas declared. "Why don't you be a good boy for a change?" Eyes twinkling, he said enticingly, "I'll tell you what! I'll add another bun with lots of honey!"

Again, a stubborn shake.

"How about two or three? If you like, I'll give you the whole plate!"

But the colt stubbornly refused to budge.

Freeing the tail of his caftan from his dear pet's head, Duncan bent down and rubbed his brow. "Moeru, for once, please obey! I really do need to speak with Master Silas alone."

"I have one final offer, Moeru," Silas suddenly interrupted. "I'll give you two sweet buns! Plus, I'll throw in a shiny dinar." The Horseman held up the coin between his fingers. "What do you say? Do you take it or leave it?"

In reply, Moeru stood up on his hind legs and snatched two sweet buns off the plate. With tail wagging, he trotted outside the chamber.

Shrugging, Silas made to drop the dinar inside his pouch. "What does a midget horse know about money anyway?"

Suddenly, though, Moeru hurried back inside the chamber. Before the Horseman could react, the colt nipped the dinar between his teeth. As Silas gaped in shock, Moeru headed straight for the door.

"Moeru, I don't want you swallowing that coin," Duncan warned him. "I have no intention of poking through your poop for it."

The colt, however, accidentally bumped against the door, distracted as he was by the whoremaster. There was the sound of choking, followed by a hard swallow. Moeru turned to give the concubine a sheepish grin, the dinar now nowhere in sight. Before Duncan could scold the colt, Moeru made a hasty exit, the door closing behind him.

Duncan faced the laughing Horseman. "You won't find it funny, Master Silas, when I have one of the servants deliver Moeru's manure to your chamber door. I'm letting you dig for that blasted coin."

"It's all right, Little Whore," Silas reassured the younger man. "I'll be more than happy to do it for you." He thought for a moment. Picking out another shiny coin from his pouch, he pressed it into the concubine's hand. "On second thought, better give him this instead. It's cleaner."

Duncan gazed at the shiny dinar on his palm. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

Silas bade the whoremaster to sit down beside him. "How are you feeling, Duncan?"

"I'm fine, Master Silas. Why shouldn't I be?"

"You're not worried about Methos?"

"Why should I worry?" The concubine shrugged, chewing uncomfortably on his lower lip. "It's better this way. I don't have to be concerned about Kronos' wanting to kill him."

The Immortal placed his fingers under the younger man's chin, making the concubine face him. "Why don't you just tell me the truth, Little Whore? Your eyes already show me what is inside your heart."

At first, Duncan could not speak. Realizing, however, that it was useless to lie to the Horseman, he breathed out a shuddering sigh from his lips.

"Methos promised me that he would never leave me again," Duncan confided with the Horseman. "After all this time, I should've learned my lesson, that Methos never keeps his promises." A tear fell from his eye and trickled a path down his cheek. "I've been asking myself if it was my fault. That night he left...I had an argument with him." Duncan's hands shook, causing the dinar to fall from his grasp, as he pressed his palms to his face to halt the flow of tears. Silas could see that the whoremaster was struggling with his bitter emotions. "Damn it! I mustn't cry! I swore to myself that I would never shed a tear over him. But why does it always have to be this way between us? Why do we always end up hurting each other?"

Silas took the distraught concubine into his arms, patting his back soothingly. Duncan clung tightly to Silas, burying his face in the Immortal's shoulder, as he accepted the comfort that was being offered to him.

"That's it, Little Whore," the Horseman mumbled in a soothing tone. "Cry it all out. It will help you feel better. Whoever said that it was wrong for you to cry has to be an idiot." Silas cursed out loud, "Damn that fool! The oldest of all Immortals and he still knows nothing! Idiot only knows how to hide, how to escape from his responsibilities!" He pulled away and gazed straight into the whoremaster's anguished eyes. "Duncan, listen to me! You must forget about him! If Methos truly loves you, he would never have abandoned you – back then and now that you are lovers once again. You don't deserve him, Little Whore! You deserve someone better, someone who would love you and protect you!" Taking a deep breath, Silas declared, "SOMEONE LIKE ME!"

Duncan shook his head. "But I'm not worthy of you, Master Silas! I'm just a whore!"

Silas suddenly embraced him even tighter. He muttered hoarsely, "No! You're never been a whore to me! I love you, Duncan! I love you so much! Give me your heart, and I swear I will make you forget him!"

That last was so appealing to him. Rather than answer verbally, the concubine communicated his desire with his body, giving himself completely into Silas's less-than-skillful arms.

As he showered Duncan's beautiful face with gentle caresses of his fingertips, Duncan quickly removed his caftan. Lifting the younger man up, the Horseman carried him over to the bed. Like a man starving for a feast, Silas let his hands explore every inch of the whoremaster's luscious flesh, teasing an earlobe and tracing a trail from neck to shoulder.

Duncan closed his eyes, feeling the Immortal's fingers making its way down his breastbone. Those fingertips moved to the right and squeezed a turgid nipple. A delicious shudder went up his spine as Silas kneaded his breast, his other hand capturing his burgeoning erection, stroking it to its full, iron-hard length. Feeling the Horseman nudge his thighs apart, he knew what was about to happen next.

The concubine's eyes fluttered open to gaze upon his lover's face. However, it was the image of Methos smiling down upon him that he saw before his startled eyes.

At once, a tremendous feeling of guilt overwhelmed him. With a cry of "NO!", Duncan shoved the Horseman from him. Returning to his senses, the whoremaster stared, horrified, at the deep hurt in reflected Silas's mien.

Bowing low before the Horseman, he cried, "Forgive me, Master Silas! For a while there, I thought I saw..."

"You thought I was Methos," Silas continued his sentence for him.

"Yes." There was no point in denying it. "Master Silas, I am so sorry!"

Strangely enough, a gentle hand was laid on his shoulder. "You know, I should be very happy about your reaction, because this is a clear rejection of Methos. Unfortunately, you have made me see things in a totally different light."

Duncan frowned. "Master Silas, your words... They are confusing to me."

"All this time, I believed Methos to be the one solely at fault. It's easy to think that, after the way he abandoned you twenty-five years ago. So easy to think that he is the villain, even up to now. But I was wrong."

"Why? Are you saying that I am to blame for all my misfortunes?"

"For what happened to you when you back then, all the blame for it should be placed on Kronos' head. For the things that have been happening to you and Methos recently, you equally share the blame."

"I don't understand."

"You two have a knack of creating complications and conflicts in your relationship. You think too much alike. At first, you hate each other so much, both of you so damned determined to get revenge. Now, that you discover that you truly love each other, you do one of two things." Silas raised a finger. "You fight..." A second finger joined the  
first. "...Or you intentionally hurt the other, all for the purpose of driving the other away. But when that happens, you end up running into each other's arms."

Duncan sadly shook his head as the tears threatened to flow once more. "Not this time. I've hurt him too deeply. He won't be coming back, and it's for the best."

"But DO you want him to come back?"

"It makes no difference what I want."

A small laugh rumbled from the Horseman's throat.

"What's so funny?"

"Methos."

The concubine gave the Horseman a look that screams "Uh, oh! He's gone insane!"

Silas noticed the expression on Duncan's face. "Don't give me that look, Little Whore! Just think about it and you'll see how amusing my Brother is."

"Why don't you eat a sweet bun first? You must be hungry. You're beginning to spout nonsense!"

"No, I'm not hungry. Don't you see, Duncan? It took twenty-five years for him to realize that he still loves you."

"It wasn't love that drove him. It was hate."

"But a hate fueled by the pain of a broken heart. As I told Methos, love is a much stronger emotion than hate." Silas gave the whoremaster a firm gaze. "Mark my words, Little Whore. Methos will return to you!"

Duncan sighed as he stood up and got dressed. "If he wants to keep his head on his shoulders, it would do him well to stay away."

"Speaking of staying away..." Reaching out, the Horseman grabbed the concubine's wrist. "Little Whore, don't think I haven't noticed the small basket you hid beside the door. You're going to it, aren't you?"

A timid nod was the reply.

"And I thought Kronos was the crazy one. This is a dangerous game you're playing, Duncan."

Duncan smiled reassuringly. "It's all right, Master Silas. I know what I'm doing."

"And what pray tell is that?"

A small shrug. "Offering companionship to someone who has become bitter from intense loneliness."

That answer startled Silas. "That is a demon, Little Whore! Not a human being! An evil, malicious creature from Hell! Don't you know that your life, no, your very soul will be sacrificed to it?"

"I know, but..."

"But what?" the Horseman demanded.

A sorrowful little smile formed on Duncan's lips. "Have you ever experienced devastating loneliness, Master Silas? I have. In a mere heartbeat, my life changed drastically -- from a Highland prince, I became a Horseman's catamite and whore to so many people I could not count them all with the fingers of my hands. I've lost my family, and the man I loved branded me a traitor. True, that you, as well as Joseph and Khassim, are my confidantes. However, neither of you could fathom the pain and the loneliness existing inside my heart. When I met the Odalisk, it was like meeting a kindred spirit. Yes, it is a demon, but it knows and shares my pain. And it has acted contrary to its evil nature to help me and heal me of my wounds. Tell me, Master Silas, why I should not go to it, when it NEEDS me, perhaps even more than Methos!" Duncan readily confessed, "I'm not afraid of death, Master Silas. After all these years of pain and suffering, I'm actually looking forward to it. Still, I would like that my life have a little meaning, that I could have, at least, accomplished something. I want the Odalisk to know love and happiness, Master Silas, and I will do it with all my heart and with my meager capabilities as a concubine. That is what I am, after all. Everyone's Little Whore."

Duncan did not wait for Silas's reply. Bowing to the stunned Immortal, he quietly went out of the room. Moeru was waiting for him outside, one sweet bun lying half-eaten at his feet. The colt's fur was bristly, staring at the door of the chamber beside Silas's room.

Smiling, the concubine picked up his basket of food and rubbed Moeru soothingly on the brow. "It's all right, Moeru! You don't have to be afraid. It's...it's just a friend."

Duncan opened the door to reveal two pairs of glowing eyes inside. He raised a beckoning hand to it. "Come, my friend! Let me escort you back to your chamber."

The demon gestured to some place inside the room, possibly another hidden passageway.

"There's another way," the whoremaster told it. "You don't have to walk in darkness for a change. I promise we won't run into anybody in the hallways."

For a moment, the Odalisk hesitated. Then, a large, ash gray arm reached out, the clawed fingers enfolding the concubine's hand. As it emerged, Moeru squeaked in terror and cowered behind his Master.

"Oh, Moeru! I told you not to be afraid." Duncan urged the colt forward and introduced, "This is my dearest friend, Moeru." He gave the demon a half-suspicious, half-teasing look. "You're not going to eat him, are you?"

The color from Moeru's lips vanished as he gazed, poleaxed, at the hideous creature before him. The colt was sure that the demon was going to eat him.

But the two heads of the Odalisk gave him a nearly human smile. The colt nearly had a heart attack when one of the demon's hands ruffled the white tuft on his head and pinched his ears.

To Moeru's surprise, the female head acknowledged, "It is a great pleasure to meet you, little one."

The male head said good-naturedly, "Is this one of your Masters, Little Prince? Perhaps you should wish for him to be taller."

Talk about his height got Moeru growling, completely forgetting that he was facing a formidable demon from Hell.

"Now, now, Moeru! Be nice!" Duncan wrapped his arm around one of the Odalisk's eight arms. "Shall we go?"

Taking the basket in one hand, the demon allowed the concubine to lead it down the hallway, a cautious Moeru trotting at its left.

Unknown to the trio, Silas had emerged from his chamber. With eyes as round as platters, he stared in shock at the Odalisk, the whore and the colt strolling along the corridor like three friends going out on a picnic.

"Were you eavesdropping on me again?" the Horseman heard the whoremaster query softly.

The Odalisk's answer was another question. "Was it true? Everything you said to the Horseman?" The disbelief was obvious in its two voices.

Duncan patted its arm in reassurance. "For as long as I still live, I swear I will keep you company."

"But why? We do not understand. What is your reason for doing this?"

"Like I told Master Silas, you need me. I cannot abandon someone who is in need."

"Little Prince, surely you know that, despite this, your life is still forfeit."

Duncan leaned his cheek against the demon's arm. Before they disappeared at the end of the long hallway, Silas clearly heard the concubine's reply.

"My dear friend," whispered Duncan with a sigh, "don't you know that death is the best gift that you could give me?"  



	15. Chapter 37

 

**CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN**

It was two hours past nightfall in the Ahaggar Range. Methos groaned, feeling an ache in his head, as he woke up. Rubbing his temples, he eased himself up on an elbow, turning to the campfire in the hope of getting some warmth for his chilled naked body. Instead, what he saw caused his blood to run icy cold.

Cassandra was dancing, completely naked, around the fire. She moved with sheer lewdness, swaying her hips around and around. Her hands fondled her breasts, fingers fluttering down to her crotch. Parting her legs, she let her fingertips caress her moist velvet lips and explore the channel within. When the Oracle produced a blunt wooden stick, the Ancient's eyes flew wide with remembrance and shock.

Her sensuous dance... It was the same dance that Duncan performed nights back. The steps, those obscene gestures, everything was exactly the same. The last time he had seen Cassandra do it was in the privacy of his tower chamber years back, before Kronos took her from him. So how could Duncan know this dance?

The memory hit him with the full force of a simoom. It wasn't Duncan at all! It was the demon, through its fiendish mind control spells, who made the concubine perform this grotesque dance in order to satisfy its base desires. But the question begged to be asked again -- How could the Odalisk know Cassandra's dance? It would only know this dance if it had contact with the Oracle, if it had seen her actually performing...

"By the gods," Methos blurted out in horror, "no, it can't be!"

The Oracle heard the Ancient's shocked exclamation. There was a feral gleam in Cassandra's green eyes as she smiled, causing Methos to reach instinctively for his Ivanhoe.

"What's wrong, Methos? Don't you like my dance?" Cassandra asked, grinning wickedly. "There was a time when you enjoyed seeing me do this dance."

"Cassandra," Methos asked breathlessly, "where did you learn this dance of yours? TELL ME!"

"Why I invented it, of course! A special dance for a very special occasion! You should consider yourself fortunate. You were the first person to witness my performance. The next time I danced..." Cassandra burst into wild, insane laughter. "My prized audience...IT WASN'T EVEN HUMAN!"

 

Except for Moeru's noisy chewing on his sweet bun, the Odalisk and Duncan ate in silence, with the concubine listlessly nibbling on his food.

The demons' brows rose in curiosity as it looked at the human beside it. "You're very quiet tonight, Little Prince," it remarked. "Still thinking about your missing lover?"

"He is not my lover," Duncan spoke with his voice flat. "At least, that's one less Master I have to consider."

"But you're obviously not happy about this."

"My lord and lady, you've been listening to my conversation with Master Silas. Please? I don't want to talk about this matter all over again."

"What shall we talk about then? I must admit, watching and listening to your tiny horse eat and chew his food is getting to be very boring."

Hearing this, Moeru lifted his head and stuck his tongue out at the demon, before resuming his meal.

Duncan smiled sweetly at the Odalisk. "I was thinking of giving you some entertainment tonight. Would you like me to dance for you? I was thinking about performing a variation of the 'Dance of the Seven Veils.'"

The demon beamed at that suggestion. "Yes, it would give us great pleasure to see you dance. But it does not have to be the 'Dance of the Seven Veils.' We're afraid that this particular dance would try our self-control."

"What do you want me to perform for you?"

"Anything. Whatever you want. Why not simply let your mind and your heart guide your steps?"

The concubine stood up, fixing his robes. "I know. There are marvelous dances that I learned while traveling in Europe, like the waltz, ballet and so many others. They're different. I'm sure you would like them."

Waving its hands, the Odalisk leaned against the wall comfortably. "I am certain I will. Go ahead, Little Prince."

Closing his eyes, Duncan envisioned the great ballroom of one of his 'clients', the Marquis De Sade. He could hear the delightful music being played by the musicians on their violins and on the clavichord. Lost in the enchanting vision, the whoremaster was  
unaware that he was humming a merry waltz.

As the demon and Moeru watched the mortal, Duncan stood on the tip of his right, left leg extended back, arms raised on top of his head forming an arch. He then launched into a series of sprite leaps and graceful movements of arms and body. At one point, he made a few running steps forward and jumped, forming a neat split in mid-air.

While twirling around and around on his toe, to the colt's surprise, the Odalisk got to its feet as well. Going towards the human, it stopped the concubine's movements by laying a hand on the small of his back. Duncan let his whole body slump gracefully backwards over that arm, his long legs crossed, the tips of his toes barely touching the floor. Righting the whoremaster, the demon clasped Duncan's left hand with his right, arms extended, while his right held the human's trim waist. Like the elegant ladies in Europe, the concubine held the robe of his caftan with his right hand.

Moeru looked on in amazement as demon and human danced the merry waltz. However, his charcoal orbs widened in growing alarm, seeing the Odalisk's eyes begin to glow a fiery red.

 

Methos was shaking his head in disbelief. "Cassandra, you? You were a sacrifice to the Odalisk!"

"Yes," the Oracle confirmed. "It was after I escaped from the Horsemen's camp. During my brief travels, I met a sorcerer who was planning to conjure up a demon. It seems this demon has the power to grant wishes, as long as someone will be sacrificed to it, someone who could sate its infernal lusts. It was this sacrifice who shall ask the wish on behalf of her Master. I quickly volunteered. After all, the sorcerer and I shared the same dream – to see the world destroyed, with you and your Brothers along with it. But it wasn't easy I tell you. That damned Odalisk was insatiable! In the end, however, I succeeded. I had already told it our wish, but those blasted magicians stopped us. They trapped the demon's powers inside the Methuselah Stone, leaving the Odalisk as weak as a mortal, and imprisoned it in a specially-designed labyrinth in this hell of the Sahara. The sorcerer and his minions were massacred. Thanks to your gift to me of Immortality, I was the only one who survived."

From out of nowhere, a sharp sword appeared in Cassandra's hand, "For centuries, I waited in this God-forsaken place, waiting for the time when I could have my revenge. The wheel of life has turned and it has brought you back to me, to die by my hands." An insane light shone in her eyes. "How ironic, isn't it, that your precious male whore is in the same position I had been. Even more ironic is the fact that your lover is the only person who could stop the demon from destroying all humanity."

"You're talking about the prophecy!" Methos exclaimed. "Tell me what it means, Cassandra, and I won't kill you. I'll spare your life."

"But prophecies may or may not come true. You know that. You know how my visions are."

"Cassandra, for the love of God, tell me what you know!"

"I'll tell you what I know for certain. In three days time, when the sun is swallowed by darkness, your lover shall die, and the demon shall destroy the Earth, and you won't be able to stop it. You won't even see the death of your beloved because..." Cassandra pointed her blade at the Ancient. "YOU SHALL DIE NOW!"

With a shrill cry, the Oracle charged at Methos, determined to kill him.

 

Duncan was feeling faint. The Odalisk was guiding him through the waltz, spinning him around and around at an ever-increasing pace.

"Please stop!" the concubine cried in increasing alarm. "I'm feeling dizzy!"

But the demon would not stop.

As Moeru looked on in horror, the dancing pair was being shrouded by a cloud of red mist, until they were no longer visible to his sight. He wanted to charge inside to save his Master, but he was too afraid to actually do so.

Within the mist, Duncan felt eager lips kiss his face, cold hands caressing his entire body. His caftan was slowly sliding down the length of his form, leaving him almost half naked.

"No, please!" the whoremaster whispered hoarsely, trying desperately to push the Odalisk off him. "Please not yet!"

Being aroused to a fever pitch, Duncan barely heard the demon mutter, "Tell me, Methos! Are you so willing to surrender your sweet lover to me?"

 

Methos exchanged furious swipes and thrusts with the Oracle, but his moves were nothing more than half-hearted attempts. He had to admit that he still felt something for Cassandra. His greater intent was to subdue, not to kill her.

Cassandra must have sensed his reluctance. "FIGHT ME! FIGHT ME, YOU BASTARD!"

"We don't have to do this!" the Ancient declared.

"Oh, yes you do!" the Oracle exclaimed, the quality of her voice suddenly changing.

Suddenly, their blades locked with a loud clash, their faces close. Methos' green gold eyes flew wide, seeing Cassandra's face transform into the overlapping visage of the two leering faces of the Odalisk.

"Now is your time to choose, Ancient!" the face of the male head appeared clearly.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Methos demanded.

"You cannot be a slave to two loves," the female head said insidiously. "Who do you love -- this witch or your sweet whore?"

"I cannot kill Cassandra! She doesn't deserve to die!"

"Are you saying that it's your lover who must forfeit his life tonight? Or perhaps I should take his tender flesh now that he came to me willingly and is in my grasp?"

Methos found himself staring into those red eyes, his jaw dropping at the frightening vision within them.

To his horror, Duncan was indeed in the Odalisk's arms. The concubine was naked, leaning against the wall, arms seeking purchase on the marble, as the demons' faces were pressed to his milk-filled chest. His legs were parted wide, the Odalisk preparing to sheathe his enormous member into the helpless man's channel.

"Tell us, Methos!" the demon queried, giggling. "Are you so willing to surrender your gentle lover to me?"

Then, probably sensing the Odalisk's geas upon her body, Cassandra broke free from the spell. With a maniacal laugh, she raised her sword above the Ancient's head and screeched, "YES! HE IS YOURS! FUCK HIM TILL HE'S DEAD!"

"NOOOO!" Methos cried out in rage, pushing the Oracle away. In a swift turning motion, the Ancient let his sword fly out in a sweeping arc and cleanly severed Cassandra's head from her shoulders.

Tears began to fall from Methos' eyes as he saw peace and relief form on the Mikumari's face. "Thank you, Methos. Thank you for freeing from this hellish madness."

As Methos screamed in despair, he heard the Odalisk whisper in his head, "Excellent choice, Ancient! Excellent choice!"

In its mind's eye, the Odalisk smiled in satisfaction as it 'watched, from that great distance, as the ancient Immortal absorbed the Quickening of his former lover. It was never interested in that witch right from the beginning. Kronos had corrupted her with his greed. There was too much guile in her that it found unappealing. Certainly not like this man who has captured its mind and cold heart and filled its loins with searing heat.

What brought it back to the here and now was the sound of soft sobs. Its eyes focused upon the weeping, terrified concubine. Duncan was seated before it, his lovely caftan now torn to shreds. He was clinging to the colt, who was equally looking at him with fear.

"Why?" sobbed the whoremaster. "Why did you do that?"

"We haven't taken you yet, Little Prince," the Odalisk told him point blank.

"True. But you know that you don't have to take me by force, like what you almost did a few minutes ago. I would go to you willingly if you need me and if it is the right time."

"Unfortunately, it is still not the right time. That is why we are unable to take you yet."

There was reproach in Duncan's voice as he said, "To think I was slowly beginning to trust you."

The demon burst into laughter at that remark. "Our sweet, naive Little Prince! Hasn't anyone ever told you to never trust a demon from Hell?"

Duncan embraced Moeru, who was licking away the tears from his face. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I am so naive. This has always been a fault of mine. I give my trust too easily and too quickly. It was because of this that I lost my...innocence. But I can't help NOT being this way. I know there is evil in this world, but I also believe that there is always some measure of goodness even in the darkest of hearts."

"And do you believe that we have this tiny spark of goodness inside our hearts?" the Odalisk asked incredulously. "My Little Prince! It is not in the nature of demons to be good."

"Then...why do you always heal me of my wounds?"

"Perhaps it's because that we don't want to see your beauty marred in any way."

"But even when I was not marked with a whip, you healed my aches and pains. Could you find an explanation inside you why you would do this service for me? You're not obligated to do this for me. Why should you care about a whore that will be sacrificed to you? And there's this…memory…something I am having trouble remembering." Duncan stubbornly shook his head. "No! I refuse to believe that you are completely evil! Kronos is the demon. Not you!"

Before it knew it was doing so, the Odalisk wrapped its arms around the concubine and the colt, giving both a tender hug. When it realized that it already had the mortal in its embrace, it was too late to take back the affectionate gesture.

Feeling Duncan's ragged tears wet its sarong, the demon whispered in awe, "You think too highly of us, do you know that, Little Prince?"

The concubine was slowly being lulled into slumber by the Odalisk's spell. Still, he mumbled, "It's because I believe in you, my friend."

The Odalisk held on to Duncan and Moeru until both fell asleep in its arms, rocking and humming a soothing song to them. It was near midnight when it cocked its head up, its bat wing-shaped ears hearing a welcoming sound despite the thick walls of its prison.

"Little Prince?" it gently shook the concubine to wakefulness. "Wake up! Wake up now!"

Duncan eased away, wiping the sleep from his eyes. In his arms, Moeru yawned as well. Both turned bleary eyes to the demon.

"What is it, my lord, my lady?" the whoremaster asked drowsily. "Is it the right time now?"

"No," the Odalisk answered, pressing a clawed fingertip to the point between the human's eyes. "It's because you have a visitor."

"A visitor?" the concubine's brows knitted together in a frown. "Who would want to see me at this time of night?" Duncan's eyes flew wide with fear. "Oh! Is it Master Kronos or Master Caspian? Do they require my services? Are they looking for me?"

"Neither Immortal is looking for you. Your visitor has traveled a long way to see you."

"But who would..." Duncan gasped as realization struck him. Swiftly, he got to his feet, about to run off, but the Odalisk grabbed his wrist.

"You wouldn't want to meet him looking like that," the demon motioned to the concubine's torn clothes. With a wave of its arms, a swirling cloud of red mist rose from the floor, spiraling up the human's form, repairing the caftan until it was brand new. Winking, it added, "Now, treat each other well, will you?"

Duncan's face brightened at once. To the Odalisk's surprise, the whoremaster gave it a happy hug, whispering in its ear, "Thank you! After this, never call yourself an evil being, my dear friend, because I know otherwise!" He then ran through the catacombs,  
with Moeru galloping at his side.

 

Duncan hurried through the empty hallways of the Palace, heading for the Main Doors. Sure enough, he could hear the sound of galloping hooves and the whinnying and snorting of a horse. Flinging the doors opened, the concubine emerged into the courtyard, just as the man in a white burnoose jumped from the saddle of his white Arabian stallion. As the man turned to the stairs, he paused, seeing the gorgeous vision standing at the top. For a moment, neither of them could move. With a sweep of his hand, the concubine's visitor pulled down the hood of his burnoose to reveal the handsome face of Methos, a hopeful little smile on his face.

That smile was invitation enough for the whoremaster. With a happy cry and tears of joy streaming down his cheeks, Duncan ran down the steps and literally flew into the Immortal's arms in a flurry of red silk.

"Methos! You came back!" Duncan caressed the Ancient's face, not believing that his lover has returned to him. "I'm so glad you came back!"

"And I'll never leave you alone ever again!" Saying this, Methos eagerly pressed his mouth upon the concubine's lips, pulling him close to his body.

 

The Odalisk stood at one of the porches, with Moeru at his side, watching enviously as the two lovers kissed.

"What is it about your Master, little one, that he is causing us to perform acts that are contrary to our evil nature?" it asked the colt, truly in a quandary.

Moeru looked at the demon, with head cocked to the side. He shook his head and mane in a gesture that said, "I don't know."

"We could see it in your eyes that he has done the same to your former Master as well."

Happiness lit up the colt's dark eyes, the closest thing to a smile that he could muster.

The Odalisk shook its head. "Such a shame that he is to be sacrificed to us. Hell is not a place for a soul as pure as his. But then...we've never wanted anyone so badly as we do him. Still, it would be such a waste." It patted Moeru's brow, a wistful smile on its faces. "We wish you could speak to him, dear colt. If you could only talk, perhaps you could  
tell him to choose his Master wisely. This is the only way for him to get out of this...arrangement."

Moeru gave the demon a quizzical glance, whickering in reply.

Turning its head, it gazed once more at the two men, its eyes focusing upon the Ancient. "Take care of his heart, Methos. Be sure that you do not break it. When the time comes for your lover to choose and you have done something to cause him grief, we shall  
see to it that you die by our hands."

The colt looked at the Odalisk in surprise, hearing that remark. Without saying anything else, the demon turned on its heels and walked away.


	16. Chapter 38

 

**CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT**

Methos settled down into the scented bath with a blissful sigh. As he sat down on the seat carved out of the rock, he leaned his head back on the pool's edge. Closing his eyes, the Ancient wondered why he left Ain Mehira in the first place. Compared to the primitive environs that Cassandra had to endure, the Palace and its opulent facilities were sinful luxuries. Luxuries, given the trials they would be facing in the next three days, he could definitely do without.

"Would you like me to bathe you, Master Methos?" That soft baritone carried an undertone of breathless anticipation.

Gazing up, Methos saw that Duncan had changed into a gauzy white shift. A smile formed on his lips. He knew that this man was the true reason for his return to this accursed place. For the life of him, he could not understand why the concubine had to dress in that flimsy garment. He could practically see every single inch of that delectable flesh. It only strengthened the Ancient's resolve to never leave the whoremaster ever again.

Noting the Immortal's intense perusal, a blush rose on Duncan's cheeks, his hands tightening on the tray filled with soap, oils and perfume.

Methos raised an inviting hand to the younger man. Laying the tray on the edge of the pool, Duncan shrugged off his robe gracefully and took the Ancient's hand. He gingerly stepped into the bath and took his place at Methos' side.

With the whoremaster in arm's reach, all thought of bathing was forgotten. Methos pulled Duncan close to his body, raining kisses upon that beautiful face. Just as eagerly, the concubine met those heated caresses with passionate kisses of his own. If it were only  
possible, the two men would have devoured each other.

The Ancient did the next best thing. Slipping down form the seat, he made his lover lean back against the side of the bath. As Duncan watched through desire-misted eyes, Methos took a deep breath and dove under the water. A strangled cry escaped his lips as that ravenous mouth latched on to his nipple. His hands reached down to hug the older man, but Methos was as slippery as an eel, taking delight in tormenting the sensitive tits. Unable to take anymore of that torturous teasing, Duncan dove down as well. As Methos sucked the concubine's cock into his mouth, so too did Duncan take in his lover's member. Movements of lips and tongues, as well as the tiny bubbles of air being extruded from their sucking mouths, caused their erections to fill to the bursting point. It was Duncan who came first, making tiny thrusts with his hips as he spilled his seed into the Ancient's oral heat. Before Methos could come as well, the whoremaster reached down and clamped hard on the base of his cock. A flurry of bubbles signaled the Immortal's protest. Like a graceful mermaid, Duncan twisted his body around with a kick of his feet, not releasing his hold on Methos' member. With one smooth downward motion, he straddled the Ancient's hips and impaled himself upon that erection.

The need for air and the desire for release became one. Allowing the water to buoy their bodies up, Methos drove his hard cock inside his lover's channel with frenzied thrusts. Water splashed around them as they burst through the surface, a scream wrenched from the Ancient's lips as he poured his essence within the velvet channel of the concubine.

Although they tried to catch their breaths, both men were reluctant to break their most exquisite joining -- with Duncan's legs wrapped around Methos' hips.

The Immortal suddenly burst into laughter.

"What's so funny?" the concubine queried.

Methos' answer was a quick peck on Duncan's lips. "NOW, we could take a bath."

At that remark, the two men's laughter rang out throughout the bath.

The next two hours saw the lovers doing more than just bathing. From the bath to Methos' chamber, they kissed and made love that their bodies were suffused with scorching heat that could have burned down the Palace.

In the end, the two lovers lay arm in arm in bed, still naked, the quilt pulled up to their upper arms.

Methos hugged Duncan close to his chest. "I know that there is something that you would like to ask me, Shinno."

"Shinno..." the concubine whispered the name he had been going by for the past ten years. "You know that my name is not Shinno."

"But he is a part of you, Duncan. That part of you that has the courage to dream of becoming a warrior."

Duncan's sigh was warm upon his skin. "Shinno no longer exists."

"And in his place is timid, submissive, hopeless Sanchi. Is that what you're saying? The simple fact that you've been going to your…Masters…to ask what their wish is and if they could be coaxed into giving their wish to you is a clear sign that Shinno still exists. The hope for freedom still burns inside you, whether you want to admit it or not."

"Very well, Methos. If what you say is true, then let me hear your answers to my questions."

"I don't have to give you my wish, Duncan, because it is my most fervent desire to see you free." A sly grin was raised on the corners of the Ancient's mouth. "And I don't need a demon to grant this wish for me."

The concubine frowned at that remark. "What do you mean?"

Methos shook his head, pressing a hushing finger to Duncan's luscious lips. "There are too many eyes and ears in this place. We shall talk tomorrow -- you, Silas and I. But before that, I will already speak with Joseph and Khassim. We shall hold conference in a special chamber where we could have all the privacy we need."

"Whatever it is that you're planning to do," Duncan began in great concern, "you'd better think a hundred times before actually doing it. Kronos and Caspian are dangerous, true, but they do not compare to the power and might of the Odalisk."

"I'm glad to see that you finally learned to fear the demon. For a while there, I thought you were going to go to it willingly."

Duncan could not look into his lover's face, afraid that the older man would see the sorrow in his chocolate brown eyes. "To be truthful, I was willing. Perhaps in here..." He gestured to his heart. "...I still do." The Ancient was about to argue. This time, it was the  
whoremaster's turn to press his palm over his lover's mouth. "Please. Let me explain. Something...inside me is telling me that I'm reading the Odalisk's actions wrong."

"Now, I'm the one who's confused. I can't believe you're defending a minion of Hell!"

"Is it truly that bad, Methos? If you think about it, it is only doing what its...Masters...ask it to do. And these are evil men, just like the sorcerer centuries back and now Kronos."

Methos muttered to himself with regret, "And Cassandra."****

"Did you say something?"

"It's nothing," the Ancient quickly said. "I just remembered someone...from my distant past. Duncan, the Odalisk is an evil being. Yes, it has the power to grant the wishes of its master, but it is not without its price."

"I know. After all, I am the one to be sacrificed to it."

"What about AFTER the sacrifice? Don't you see, Duncan? No matter what your wish is, even if it's for good, you free the demon, and once you do, nothing is going to stop itfrom destroying the world. Knowing this, tell me that the Odalisk is not truly evil."

To his surprise, however, the whoremaster said firmly, "Methos, I know that it is not completely evil. An evil being thrives on human suffering. But why does it heal my wounds? Every time the Horsemen hurt me, it always heals me afterwards. Isn't healing a gift that only the good possess? How could a demon still be able to do good? The Odalisk...I know that the evil has not completely taken over its being. Its soul! I believe it could still be saved."

Gazing at his lover in stunned disbelief, Cassandra's prophecy again came to Methos's mind.

"An evil one will come, to vanquish all before him. Only a Highland child, born on the winter solstice, who has seen both darkness and light, can stop him."

Deep lines creased Methos' brow as he lapsed into thought. What does the prophecy mean? Should I tell Duncan about this? But how could he stop the Odalisk?

Deciding to tell the younger man about the Oracle's vision, the Ancient started to say, "Duncan, there's something I must tell you."

Suddenly, however, a small, hard body began crawling under the covers, inching its way between them. Before Methos could move, strong hooves kicked him out of the bed and sent him, falling, to the floor.

Groaning, the Immortal slowly sat up, rubbing his aching back, to find a grinning Moeru blinking down at him. Then, the concubine's head popped up beside the colt, irritation and worry clearly etched on his face.

"You're a very, very bad boy, Moeru!" Duncan scolded the snickering horse, lightly bopping Moeru on the head with his fist. "Are you all right, Methos? No broken bones?"

Methos laughed at that last query. "No Ancient ever died from a broken bone. I'm fine." He glared resentfully at the colt. "I guess this means I'll be sleeping on the floor tonight."

Before Duncan could answer to the contrary, Moeru nudged a pillow and a blanket over the edge of the bed, letting them fall into a startled Methos' lap. There was a mocking grin on the colt's face as he moved his head from side to side, sending his red mane flying.

The concubine gave the mischievous little horse another rap on the head. "Moeru, you are so naughty! That is not nice!" He reached a hand down to the Ancient. "Come, Methos. This bed is big enough for the three of us."

Methos took Duncan's offered hand, but did not use it to boost himself up.

Duncan looked at the Immortal curiously. "Methos? What was it that you were going to tell me?"

Closing his eyes, Methos pressed his lips to the whoremaster's fingertips. "I love you, Duncan."

As the concubine lowered himself to the floor and into the Ancient's arms, Duncan whispered, "And I love you too, Methos."


	17. Chapter 39

 

**CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE**

 

Silas paced back and forth inside the chapel, shaking his head furiously. "No! No! NO! Methos, this is utter lunacy! It's too dangerous!"

"Can you think of a better plan?" Methos queried in a casual tone. With a wave of his hands, he added, "If you could, I'm open to suggestions."

"Where are Joseph and Khassim? If they are privy to your schemes, I fear for their lives."

"I've spoken to them singly inside this chamber. My return has been most fortuitous. Now that he has fulfilled his duty of playing escort to the concubine during his travels, Kronos has ordered Khassim to return to his master, the Sultan. He has also seen fit to dismiss Joseph as well, saying that his services were no longer needed. They left early this morning."

"Kronos obviously does not want anybody interfering in the ritual. Little does he know where those two are actually headed and what they are tasked to do."

Methos crossed his arms over his chest and remarked, "I trust you're not going to tell Kronos or Caspian."

Silas scowled at his fellow Horseman. "If you didn't trust me, you wouldn't have invited me here in the first place."

"As Kronos' left hand, I don't trust you," the Ancient said frankly. "But I trust in the love that you hold for Duncan. I can't do this alone, Silas. If I'm to free Duncan from this hellhole, I'm going to need your help."

"I'll do anything to help. I'm just as interested as you in seeing Duncan escape from Ain Mehira and from the clutches of the Odalisk." Silas gave Methos a quizzical glance. "What I don't understand is why you need to find the Methuselah Stone. All we need to do is to simply take Duncan as far away from this place as possible, halfway across the world if necessary."

"We have to bring the crystal with us. The Odalisk knows it exists, that it is hidden within the walls of this Palace. You've participated in Kronos' rituals. With the three of you as channels, you've allowed the demon to tap into its powers that lay trapped inside the Stone. It's been using it manipulate Duncan. If the Odalisk should get its hands on it, the Earth is in jeopardy. As long as we keep it far away from the demon, the whole world would be safe."

"And the demon would remain trapped here in Ain Mehira. It's a good plan," Silas commented, nodding his head. "There's just one problem. If you're going to ask me, I don't know where the Methuselah Stone is."

Methos groaned, rubbing the point between his eyes with his fingers. "I guessed as much. I suppose Caspian doesn't know either."

"Come now, Brother! You know you can't trust Caspian with anything."

The Ancient shook his head, unable to hide his dismay. "I was hoping we could take it with us. Getting Duncan out of here... I guess that is all we could do. But we have to do it tonight!"

"The solar eclipse is still two days away. We have to plan this carefully. We can't leave any room for errors."

"There's no time. The more we delay this, our chances of escaping become slim."

"Why are you in such a hurry? Is there something you're not telling me?"

The hurt was immediately reflected in Methos' bright hazel eyes. "Silas, while I was gone, I was in the Ahaggar Mountains, a mindless prisoner of the Oracle residing there. The Oracle... It was Cassandra."

Silas looked at the Ancient in shock. "Cassandra! All this time! I thought she died years ago, after she escaped..."

"Well," Methos shrugged, "she's dead now."

The Immortal immediately understood what the Ancient was saying. Clapping a hand of comfort on Methos's shoulder, he said, "I'm sorry. I know how much she meant to you."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. It was Cassandra who started this terrible mess in the first place. She and that damned sorcerer!"

Silas's eyes flew wide. "She was a sacrifice?"

"Yes." Methos let out a wry laugh. "Isn't it funny? Duncan is now placed in the same position Cassandra was in back then."

"The difference is that Cassandra was not pure of soul. The Odalisk needed a sacrifice with a pure soul. I KNOW Cassandra. I never liked her, Brother. Even when she was still with us, she was a sly one, full of guile. I believed that Kronos did you a favor when he took her from you."

"Cassandra was one of a thousand regrets. Up to the very end, she was unrepentant for the misery she had caused."

"You know. Sometimes I wonder if all those deaths would have been prevented if it were truly a pure soul that was sacrificed to the Odalisk. The demon itself admitted to Duncan that it never liked Cassandra as well."

"That is why I do not want Duncan to be sacrificed to it. Lord only knows what might happen. First and foremost, I do not want to lose Duncan."

"And I agree with you on that." Silas then inquired, "You said that Cassandra passed herself off as an Oracle. She had the gift, didn't she? Did she tell you anything that might prove helpful to us?"

"Just a vague prophecy." The Ancient recited it for the Horseman. "An evil one shall come, to vanquish all before him. Only a Highland child, born on the winter solstice, who has seen both darkness and light, can stop him."

A gasp escaped Silas' lips. "But...but the Highland child! That's Duncan! Are you saying he's some kind of champion, an avatar? But how can he stop the Odalisk? From the tone of her prophecy, it sounds like Duncan will have to fight the demon! What else did she tell you?"

"Nothing else, I'm afraid. Cassandra was insane to begin with."

The Horseman cursed in frustration. "Damn that witch! I know you were lovers once, but I'm sorry, Brother. I hope she is burning in Hell right now."

"Believe me, Silas, I share your sentiments. Cassandra was actually very pleased to find out that Duncan, who is my lover now, is going to be sacrificed to the demon. She would not say anything more about the prophecy, except gloat over my impending loss. Frankly, Silas, I'm afraid for Duncan."

"I understand your concern. But I have to ask you this, Methos. You, yourself, helped train Duncan in the martial arts and swords work recently. If he were to face the Odalisk in mortal combat, do you think he would stand a chance of defeating it?"

Again, the Ancient shrugged his shoulders. "To be honest, I really do not know. For a Pre-Immortal, however, he is very good though."

"I agree with you there. I saw how he killed Kamir with relative ease, and that thug  
was a devious assassin."

"However, this is a demon from Hell we're talking about. Duncan could put up a good fight, but I doubt if he would win in the end. My greatest concern, though, is that I don't think he would be willing to fight the Odalisk. He has this crazy notion running through his head that the demon is not truly evil and that its soul could still be saved."

"Duncan has told me about this," Silas confirmed. "Do you know that I actually stumbled upon them in the hallway? It was that night you arrived. They were walking down the corridor like one happy family -- the Odalisk, Duncan, and that runt of a horse Mini Moe."

At the mention of the tiny colt, for the first time, Methos felt the tension fly out of him momentarily as he laughed. "Silas, don't you know that you're courting trouble when you tease Moeru constantly about his short stature?"

Breathing in deeply, Silas exclaimed in resignation, "I know that, but I just couldn't help myself! Do you know that the first time I called him 'Mini Moe' the wee bugger bit my ass? You couldn't get him off. He was like a stubborn crab. If Duncan hadn't threatened him with weaning, he wouldn't let go!" The Horseman fumbled with the ties of his trousers. "Here! Let me show you! I think I still have the scars of his teeth back there."

Methos quickly raised his hands, shaking his head. "Please! Don't bother! I don't want to see it! I just ate!"

Silas gave the Ancient a baleful glare as he pulled up his trousers. "Brother, you wound me with that remark."

"Let's forget about asses and Moeru for a minute." Turning somber, Methos looked at his Horseman. "Would you help me, Silas? For Duncan's sake?"

"You don't have to ask. I'll do anything to help free Duncan. The question is could we help him escape from this dire prophecy that is hanging over his head?"

"Frankly, I don't know," the Ancient said truthfully. "But we must try." Methos glanced worriedly at the door. "Speaking of Duncan, where the hell is he? He should've been here thirty minutes ago."

Before Silas could speak, a furious cry followed by a blood-curdling scream of anguish pierced the silence. As the two men turned towards the door once more, it banged open, revealing a trembling Moeru, coal black eyes wide with terror, blood trickling from his mouth.

 

Duncan was sneaking through the hallway; he was stealing glances at the closed door of the chamber he had just emerged from. In truth, there was no need to be furtive, but for the past several minutes, he was having trouble ditching Moeru. Already late for his rendezvous with Methos in the chapel, the whoremaster had to coax the colt to go to  
sleep on his cot inside the Ancient's chamber. When he had at last succeeded, Duncan quietly left the room and padded down the corridor on bare feet, much to the amusement of the servants he passed by, seeing him with his slippers hanging from his fingers.

The concubine grimaced, feeling his raw, sensitive nipples scrape against the fabric of his caftan. As his hand flew up to massage his aching breast, he muttered under his breath, "After this, I am definitely weaning you, Moeru!"

Just as the words flew out of his mouth, Duncan's heart suddenly gave a lurch, hearing the staccato clip clop of galloping hooves on stone. Swiftly, the whoremaster hid at the next small corridor. He held his breath, waiting for the colt to pass by, but no one appeared. As he listened closely, even the sound of hooves have stopped, leaving only silence. Duncan cautiously peered into the hallway he had come from, but there was no sign of Moeru anywhere.

Emerging from his hiding place, the concubine bent over forward and breathed in relief, hand rubbing over his pounding heart. However, a frown formed on his brow, feeling a gentle breeze caress his bare legs and rump.

"That's strange," the whoremaster mumbled curiously. "Why did it get so drafty all of a sudden?"

Suddenly, a cold, wet nose pressed on the crease of his butt, followed by warm, sniffing puffs. With a cry, Duncan jumped in surprise. Whirling around, he saw Moeru blinking innocently up at him.

Tense and exasperated, Duncan rounded on the poor colt. "Moeru, I told you I must speak with Methos alone. I thought you were a smart little horse. What part of the word 'alone' did you not understand? Are you so stupid that you don't realize that there are  
times when I don't want you around?"

Moeru stared at his Master in shock, taking a step back in fear. He had never heard the concubine speak to him in such a hateful, hurtful tone before.

Duncan started, seeing the glimmer of tears in the colt's ebony orbs. Lowering his head, Moeru turned his back to his Master and sadly began to walk away.

Before the colt could depart, Duncan fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around Moeru's neck. "I'm so sorry, Moeru! Please forgive me! I didn't mean to hurt you like this. It's just that I'm terribly afraid. I know what's about to happen to me in the next two days, but I'm terrified of the fate that awaits me. I don't want to be alone, Moeru. I would give anything to be with you and Methos and all my friends forever. But that cannot be. You don't know how much it breaks my heart that I'll be leaving you very soon."

Moeru tenderly licked the concubine's face. Bussing Duncan on the lips, he laid his chin on his Master's shoulder.

Duncan embraced the little horse tightly. "I love you too, Moeru." Kissing the colt on the nose, he invited, "Let's go! Methos would be worried sick about us by now."

Man and horse went on their way. Moeru was very happy, trotting with sprite clip clops of his hooves. For a moment there, he thought that his Master was angry with him. He did not understand everything that Duncan told him, but he caught the tone in the concubine's voice that he was going to leave soon. In his little mind, he remembered the promise that he and Mikey made. He will not allow that his Master come to any harm.

As they reached the wing of the chapel, however, Moeru failed to notice that Duncan had slowed his pace. In fact, the whoremaster's breath was slowly changing into labored gasps. Hearing the soft pants behind him, the colt turned to find his Master leaning against the wall, hand clutching his chest, eyes shut tight in pain. Moeru approached him worriedly and nudged his leg. He was surprised when the concubine's eyelids fluttered open to reveal sheer terror in those beautiful brown orbs.

"I can't go there, Moeru," Duncan gasped out, shaking his head vehemently. "Tell Methos we could talk elsewhere, but not there."

The colt, however, by instinct alone, knew that the chapel was the safest place in the entire Palace. Instead of going to the Ancient who was waiting for them inside the small room, Moeru bit on the hem of the concubine's caftan and began tugging him urgently.

"I said no!" the whoremaster cried, trying to yank his clothes back. "Moeru, you're not going to make me go in there!"

Moeru was insistent. Fiercely, he tugged and tugged on his Master's clothing, forcing Duncan to follow an inch at a time.

"NO! STOP IT! LET ME GO!" he screamed in terror. "I DON'T WANT TO GO  
IN THERE!"

Suddenly, there was a low growl. As the colt looked up in horror, he saw that the concubine's face has transformed into a hideous mask of rage, more demon than human. Duncan's eyes glowed fiery red, his face pasty white, his lips blood red. There were fangs inside his mouth as he snarled at the startled horse.

"I SAID LET ME GO, YOU DAMNED RUNT!" At this furious cry, Duncan backhanded Moeru. Such was the power of the blow that it sent the colt crashing into the wall.

"NO! MOERU!" the concubine screamed, seeing the blood pouring out of the colt's mouth. "OH, GOD! I'M SORRY!"

Moeru shook the haze of pain from his head. He was about to flee from his angry Master, when he stopped. Duncan was cringing against the wall, hands over his heart. Blood tears were flowing from his red eyes.

"MOERU, RUN!" Duncan called out to the little horse. "I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU!"

Instead of running away, the colt hurried to the chapel and kicked the door open.

 

Methos and Silas stared in shock at the bleeding colt. What first entered their minds was that Moeru had made a mistake of bumping into the insane Immortal.

"Moeru! What's wrong? Who hurt you?" Methos demanded, bending before the frightened horse. "Was it Caspian?"

With an urgent whinny, Moeru gestured to the hallway.

Before the two Immortals could get out of the room, they saw that the corridor was filled with a bright light. Emerging into the hallway, they were greeted by a most astounding sight.

Duncan was floating in mid-air. His caftan was opened, baring his chest from which a shaft of red light shone. Seeing the contorted, nearly inhuman features of the concubine, the Ancient saw that not only was he possibly in the control of the Odalisk once more, Duncan was also in terrible pain. Without hesitation, Methos rushed towards his lover and grabbed him. As he did so, he at last beheld the source of the light emanating from the whoremaster's chest -- a large round crystal embedded in Duncan's breastbone. Within the crystal itself, the Immortal could see tongues of flame.

"By the Gods!" Methos gasped in disbelief, recognizing the crystal immediately. "THE METHUSELAH STONE!"

Stunned was he by this discovery that the Ancient did not notice the commotion around them. Before Methos could act, the hilt of a sword was slammed into the back of his head and, from the infernal light of the crystal, he fell into the blessed darkness of the insensate.


	18. Chapter 40

 

**CHAPTER FORTY**

 

When Methos roused to consciousness, all he saw was the darkness of his prison cell. Before he could even lift himself to a standing position, a hot brand seared his skin, sending agonizing pain shooting all over his body. Before he fell into unconsciousness, he heard the snide snickering of the crazy Immortal.

"I'm going to have so much fun with you, Methos," Caspian giggled maniacally.

This cycle of life and sudden death happened again and again and again. Each time he awoke, the Ancient was horrified to find that his lower body was fouled by more than just his blood. At one point, Methos had instinctively clamped his fingers tight around Caspian's throat, along with his first breath of life.

"I'll kill you, you damned bastard!" Methos roared in fury. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

Without a doubt, he would have ripped the Immortal's ugly head from his shoulders, if only Caspian had not grabbed his dagger and plunged the sharp tip several times into Methos' abdomen.

The last time that the Ancient awoke from Death's domain, night had already fallen. Locked as he was in the deepest part of the Palace dungeon, Methos had no way of knowing the day or the time. He was unaware that it was the evening of the second day, that the following day would be the day of the sacrifice. What he sensed, however, was the presence of another Immortal outside.

Rage and frustration rising inside his heart, Methos rushed to the iron doors and started shaking the bars. "LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!"

It was Kronos' calm voice that answered him. "I'm sorry about this, Brother. But you left me with no choice."

"Kronos!" the Ancient hissed in anger. "Where's Duncan? What the hell did you do to him?"

"He's safe...for now. But tomorrow?"

The Ancient's eyes widened. With a forlorn groan, he pressed his brow to the bars, shaking his head. "No! Dear God, no!"

"I underestimated you, Brother," Kronos remarked. "You obviously know a lot more than I first thought."

"But I still don't know everything. You've kept your secrets well, Brother." Methos said the last with great scorn.

The Horseman loomed into view. With a casual shrug, he leaned against the wall opposite Methos' cell, arms folded over his chest. "I suppose I should reveal all to you now. There's nothing you could do to stop the inevitable anyway."

"It was centuries ago, that first time we parted ways after Cassandra escaped from our camp," Kronos began his narrative. "I formed a little band of thieves, bandits and cutthroats, plundering our way to this region. During our trek through the desert, we found the ruins of a great city. With all my accumulated riches, I decided to rebuild the Palace. One of my men was a master builder and he made the plans to build the Palace using the still intact supports of the original edifice. It was while they were digging that they found the chapel. Inside it were clay jars containing scrolls on which were written the history of the people who lived here. About the magicians who have imprisoned in the catacombs below a powerful demon that could grant wishes."

A light laugh escaped Horseman's lips. "Thanks to those scrolls, we were able to dig through the ruins until we reached the catacombs. It was easy for me to locate where the Odalisk's prison was. But I was dismayed when I found it. It was nothing more than a hideous statue, its powers drained to such a degree that it could not move, frozen in a Lotus position like a grotesque Hindu god. I sought the answer as to how to awaken it. It was in the scrolls that I learned about the existence of a crystal in which the demon's powers were sealed. A stone that supposedly could give the bearer god-like powers, including healing and eternal life. The great Methuselah Stone from the legends! The problem was, following the destruction of the city, the magicians and their gods willed that the crystal be hidden in the farthest corners of the Earth, where the demon could not get its hands on it. Like a bright shooting star, the Methuselah Stone soared into the heavens from the ruins of the city and disappeared."

"And so you decided to look for the Stone," Methos wryly continued for him. "Let me guess! Aside from its promise of immortality, the Odalisk's ability to grant your heart's desire appealed to your sense of greed."

Kronos smiled. "You know me too well, Methos. With my Palace still under construction, I decided to go on a journey once more, leaving everything in the hands of my master builder. I joined up with the three of you again and, for ten years, we went back to our Horsemen's ways. But none of you knew that I was searching for the Methuselah Stone." He glared at the Ancient. "As time passed, you became a thorn in my side, Methos. I saw it in your eyes that you still harbored hatred towards me for demanding the witch Cassandra from you. I've also seen how world weary you have become, so eager to settle down to a life of domesticity. When we arrived in Scotland, the more you became disagreeable. Against my better judgment, I acceded to your demand that we seek 'honest' employment by becoming armsmasters to the lord of the keep, Ian MacLeod in the village of Glenfinnan by the shores of Loch Shiel. I thought I would never leave that damned place and be able to continue on my quest, especially when you became so enamored of the lord's son. Do you know that you nearly came close to losing that little brat when he demanded that I leave you alone? Insolent little cur! A wee puppy like him telling me, the leader of the Four Horsemen, to cease from my nightly pursuits?" A lascivious grin formed on Kronos' face. "But then, I got a good look at the child. I saw just how pretty he was, and he's one of us! In this brave little boy, I saw the key to destroying you. He was so sweet, Brother," said the Horseman dreamily. "At such a tender age, he was a natural whore."

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Methos bellowed, rattling the bars, eager to kill the Horseman.

"Ah, but we haven't come to the best part! As I was taking him, a bright shaft of light burst from the center of his chest, healing his wounds completely as though he were Immortal. Just as quickly, the light vanished, leaving the skin of his chest unmarked. But it was enough. I saw it -- the one thing I've been searching for. I thought it would be hidden in ancient ruins or in a deep, dark cave. In the highest mountain or in the depths of the ocean. It was the perfect hiding place for the demon's crystal -- the body of a Highland child with a pure soul!" Kronos clucked his tongue in mock regret. "Poor Duncan! Brave child! He sacrificed his innocence just to save the man he loved from his evil Brother, only to have his beloved mentor brand him a traitor and abandon him."

"BASTARD!" the Ancient cried furiously, squeezing his arm between the bars. "GIVE ME A SWORD SO THAT I COULD TAKE YOUR HEAD!"

"Don't you want to listen to the rest of the story? After you left, as I expected would happen, Duncan's adoptive father banished him from the clan. Can you blame Ian MacLeod? Who would want to have a catamite for a son? The lord of the keep gave the hapless child to Caspian and Silas, whom I instructed to deliver Duncan to me in Ain Mehira. Obviously, I went ahead – to ensconce myself as the rightful ruler of my little desert kingdom. It's not without difficulty, however. It seems my master builder had notions of grandeur running around inside his head and proclaimed himself Emir in my absence. Although some men remained loyal to me, we could not retake Ain Mehira from him."

A smug grin quirked up his lips. "The arrival of Caspian and Silas with my precious Highland child was most fortuitous. The mere presence of Duncan within the oasis' borders was all it took to rouse the Odalisk from its slumber. It sensed the Methuselah Stone within him. Within a night, the demon slaughtered everyone in the Palace. The screams were horrifying, and Silas had a hard time calming our sweet little prince. For a moment, we thought that the Odalisk would escape, but thankfully, the magical wards stayed, keeping it imprisoned. When at last the demon quieted down, greedy fellow that I am, I went to it and demanded that it grant my wish." Kronos exclaimed with a tone of self-deprecation, "But stupid me! The Odalisk reminded me that it could not grant my wish without its powers. And, as was written in the scrolls, it would not be enough to simply give it the Stone. A worthy sacrifice must be offered to it -- one that could satisfy its base desires willingly. A sacrifice with the beauty and lustiness of a siren, but with the soul of an angel.

"Guess who should appear from out of nowhere? All the screams must have awakened Duncan and, dazed as he was, somehow found himself in the catacombs. Do you know what your gentle Duncan cried to the Odalisk? 'DON'T DO IT! DON'T GRANT HIS WISH!' Amazing little boy! He was standing before a demon from Hell and he was not afraid. NOT AT ALL! Such was the goodness shining from his heart that the Odalisk did not realize that its powers were trapped inside this courageous child. Then, a tear fell from his right eye. He does that well, you know, Methos. That trick with a tear. I've seen a change in the demon. Gentle smiles formed on its two faces, and it actually reached out and wiped the tear from Duncan's eye. 'Please don't grant his wish!' Duncan insisted again. 'He's evil!' As if I were the demon and the Odalisk were an angel from Heaven! I could see how attracted it was to Duncan. I asked the demon, 'Do you want him?' The Odalisk replied, 'He is not ready.' I smiled and answered, 'In twenty-five years, he shall be ready for you.' It ruffled ran its fingers through Duncan's hair and said something which I could not hear. Duncan nodded once and then he closed his eyes and began to slip to the floor. It was Silas who caught him in his arms. 'In twenty-five years,' the Odalisk told me and it went back inside its chamber.

"Oh, but I didn't send Duncan out into the world just yet. I waited until he was ten years old before sending him out for training with the best whores in every corner of the globe. Still, I gave him the benefit of my expertise during those ten years that we were together." Kronos winked at the Ancient. "After all, did I not make an excellent whore out of you?"

Methos's face darkened, his hazel eyes piercing in their glare. "I swear, Kronos, I will get out of here and, when I do, I will have your head, and I won't regret it one bit..." He concluded with utter disdain, "...Brother!"

"You'll never get out of this cell, Methos," the evil ruler answered firmly. "Here, you will rot for all eternity. You'll never see your beautiful lover whore to the Odalisk and sacrifice his life to it."

"You're dead, do you hear me, Kronos? DEAD!"

Kronos, however, simply ignored his ravings. "I'm not a cruel man. Don't worry, Brother! You have a companion inside your cell. Since you two are already good friends. I'm sure you would enjoy each other's company." Saying this, the Emir of Ain Mehira walked off, laughing all the way.

Turning, Methos surveyed his cell, until his eyes fell upon the trembling figure crouched in the farthest, darkest corner.

"Oh my God! MOERU!" the Ancient rushed towards the colt. Through the dim light of the torch, he could see that Moeru's body was covered with bleeding cuts, possibly from the lash. The little horse was breathing heavily, making soft noises of pain. Given the way he favored his side, it was obvious to Methos that Moeru had a few broken ribs as well.

Tears trickling from his eyes, Methos carefully eased Moeru's head onto his lap. As he embraced the colt, he whispered, "I'm so sorry, little friend! I tarried too long in Cassandra's cave. Now, it's too late! I couldn't protect you from the Kronos' cruelty! I couldn't save Duncan from the Odalisk! This is all my fault! I returned too late to save you both, and I'm oh so sorry for this!"

 

Exhausted and depressed, Methos eventually drifted off to sleep. Only two hours had passed when he awoke once more, sensing a presence inside the cell with him. Unlike Kronos or Caspian's disturbing aura, his visitor surrounded them with a refreshing atmosphere, like a breath of sweet, clean mountain air. The Ancient did not move, instead he extended his hearing -- to listen to the soft cajoling murmurs and the frightened whickers of the colt.

"Moeru, please!" that gentle baritone begged the little horse earnestly. "I swear it was not my intention to hurt you! Please don't be afraid of me!"

Methos cracked an eyelid open. Duncan was down on one knee, hand reaching out to the colt, which was cringing inch-by-inch back from him. There were dots of tears in the man's bed gown. One long slit in the side all too clearly revealed to the Ancient the crusts of dried blood on his rump and the back of his right thigh. But to his surprise, the one thing that Methos never expected to see again was the black veil covering the whoremaster's entire face. From his position, Duncan looked like a wraith or the Angel of Death.

Duncan raised both arms to the terrified colt, his voice trembling as he pleaded, "Please, Moeru! My dear sweet friend! I just want to hold you! If you wish, you could feed from me. I know you're very hungry." Seeing the tiny horse staring back at him with eyes as round as plates, the concubine asked in growing dismay, "Moeru, what's wrong? Don't you love me anymore?"

Before he could even lay a finger on his wee friend, Moeru let out a frightened cry and painfully limped towards Methos. Seeing the colt's wobbly gait, the Ancient quickly sat up and caught him before he could stumble. The little horse's rejection of him broke the whoremaster's heart in two. Lowering his head, Duncan buried his face in his hands and burst into bitter tears.

"Duncan..." Methos called the older man's name softly.

The concubine pounded his fist several times to his chest. "It...it was this...thing! It was controlling me, and I couldn't stop it! When Moeru was forcing me to enter the chapel, I just found myself hitting him so fiercely that he hit the wall hard. Methos, I swear I didn't mean to hurt him! I would never willfully hurt Moeru!"

"I know that, Duncan. It's because of the Methuselah Stone inside you. The Stone contains the essence of the Odalisk."

"Yes, I know. It's been doing...things...to me. Making me see things," Duncan whispered. With a forlorn cry, he exclaimed, "But why me? I didn't ask for this! Why did those magicians put this thing inside me?"

"I'm not too sure myself. Maybe because they knew that the perfect hiding place for the Stone would be a person possessing a pure soul. They probably believed that you could be able to contain the evil."

"Well, I don't want it! Especially if it makes me hurt the ones I love!"

Methos looked at his lover curiously. "Duncan, you said that the Stone is doing things to you. What do you mean by that?"

A shadowed hand reached under his veil, apparently to wipe away his tears. "I could feel its powers, Methos. I...I think I could be able to make amends with Moeru by healing him."

"Then, why don't you?" Methos smiled down at the terrified colt who had rolled up into a tight, painful ball in his arms. "Did you hear that, Moeru? Duncan wants to heal you. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Moeru, however, vehemently shook his head, and tucked himself even closer to the Ancient.

The Immortal was saddened by this gesture. "Mini Moe, are you saying that you don't love Duncan anymore? You know that he is under the control of the demon and his magic crystal. It is making him do things he doesn't want to do. Tell me, Moeru! In all the times that you've been together, has Duncan ever laid a finger of harm on you?"

The colt gazed into the Ancient's face, tears welling up in his eyes. Then, slowly, he shook his head.

"Very well then. Let him help you. I am in no capacity to heal you, and Silas isn't here." Methos mused sadly, "I'm not even sure if he's..."

"Silas is still alive," Duncan put in. "Kronos still needs his help for the ritual. I...made him see...the necessity of keeping his Brother alive, until after the ritual."

Methos frowned at that remark, but did not say anything else. Instead, he stood up and carried Moeru over to the concubine, laying him on Duncan's lap. There was a moment's hesitation in the whoremaster.

"Don't be afraid, Moeru," Duncan whispered again as he raised his hand.

Methos stared in shock. The concubine's hand now resembled that of the demon's, white and gritty as unpolished marble with sharp claws. Moeru began to shake all over at the sight of that frightening hand, but did not make any move to escape, even when Duncan laid his palm over his chest. Suddenly, Duncan's hand began to glow bright white, enveloping the colt in an aura of light. As the Ancient looked on in amazement, white tendrils snaked out from the whoremaster's fingers, tracing each and every wound on Moeru's body, leaving it healed with its passage. Surely enough, Methos could feel the colt's breathing begin to attain its more normal rhythm, his position becoming relaxed. When the light faded away, Moeru was as good as new.

With a choked cry, the little horse cuddled close to his dearest friend as tears of guilt trickled from his eyes.

Embracing him eagerly and kissing him many times, Duncan wept as well, "Don't cry, Moeru! Please! I understand that you were afraid, that you thought I might hurt you again. But it won't happen again. I swear it! I would rather die than hurt you!"

In his happiness that the colt was well again, the concubine did not notice that his veil was slowly being pulled from his face with every movement of Moeru's head. Before Duncan could yank his veil back, it fluttered down on his lap, covering the horse's body like a silk blanket.

There were startled looks on both the faces of Methos and Moeru, beholding the older man's face at last.

"DON'T LOOK AT ME!" cried Duncan in panic, covering his face with both hands. But the Immortal and colt had already seen him too clearly.

Carefully, Methos reached out and pried the whoremaster's trembling hands away from his face. He bade his lover to look up. Although his handsome face remained, his chocolate brown irises had been transformed into a blazing red color, giving it a feral mien. His parted full lips revealed sharp fangs. Duncan's ears had assumed the form of bat wings, just like the Odalisk's. Even his long hair had changed into glossy red tresses, almost like copper wires.

Duncan's fangs punctured his lower lip as he bit down. Laughing wryly, he said, "Amazing it? Even with the way I look now, it didn't stop Kronos and Caspian from fucking me! They said that I needed to be 'rehearsed' for the ritual."

Unable to speak, Methos made to embrace the older man, but the concubine hastily stood up, with Moeru cradled like a baby in his arms.

"Come with me, Methos," invited the whoremaster. "I'm taking you back to your chamber."

"But what about Kronos? I don't want him to punish you."

"I told him that I wouldn't do what he wanted if he didn't release you from this cell." The concubine grimaced. "This...form...has its uses. The Stone also helped me to be more persuasive. Unfortunately, I couldn't persuade Kronos to let you go. He said that he wanted you to be at the ceremony -- to watch as I copulate with the Odalisk."

The Ancient was about to utter a fierce retort, but then, his lover started to walk away. Damn you, Kronos! I swear you'll die by my hands! With that oath, he hurried after the whoremaster.

As they emerged from the dungeons and went through the hallways of the Palace, Methos noticed the deathly silence of his surroundings.

In answer to his unspoken question, Duncan replied, "Most of the servants have gone. The only people left here are the soldiers still loyal to Kronos. I don't know about the village, but I think even the villagers have fled from Ain Mehira." He turned slightly to the older man. "This is your doing, isn't it, Methos? This sudden exodus from the oasis?"

"Yes," the Immortal admitted. "I had asked Joseph to seek the help of Abdullah Bakkar and his men. I'm certain that they had infiltrated the village and had seen to the escape of the people from this realm."

"I doubt if it would do any good, especially when the Odalisk regains its full strength. I doubt if there is any place on this Earth that we could hide."

"Still, we must do everything we can to try to stop it. In a few hours, Khassim would be here, together with his master, the Sultan, and his troops, as well as some men from the Bedouin tribes. Contrary to belief, Kronos is considered a scourge among the desert tribes. As for those tribes still loyal to him, they wouldn't stand a chance against the combined might of the armies of the Sultan and the other desert tribes."

"But would they stand a chance against the power of the Odalisk? I will do everything I can to stop the bloodshed."

"Duncan, it's still not too late. Just say yes and I will take you away from this place."

"I'm afraid my answer is no. This is my destiny, Methos. I will see it through to its very end."

Reaching the Ancient's chamber at last, Methos grabbed Duncan's wrist before he could open the door. "You've made your choice, haven't you? You have chosen the Master whose wish you shall ask the demon to grant."

Opening the door, Duncan waved the younger man inside. "Yes, I have."

The Immortal waited until they were behind closed doors. As the whoremaster laid the now sleeping colt on his cot, he queried again, "Who did you choose? Is it me?"

Duncan, however, shook his head. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you. You'll find out tomorrow."

"Do you think I could just stand by and watch you make love to that thing? Do you want me to do nothing while you sacrifice your body and soul to the demon?"

"Yes."

Gritting his teeth, Methos reached under his bed and pulled out his Ivanhoe.

There was sorrow in the concubine's eyes as he asked, "Are you going to kill me now, Methos? Are you going to deprive me of this one chance to do something useful with my life?"

The Ancient let his sword fall from his hand. "Why did this have to happen to us, Duncan? WHY?"

"Perhaps because it is meant to be this way."

With tears filling his eyes, Methos wrapped his arms around his brave lover. "Can you forgive me, Duncan, for ruining your life?"

Duncan embraced the older man just as tightly. "Oh, Methos! Despite the cruel things I said and did to you in the past, I've long since forgiven you. You're my heart and soul. How could I not forgive you?"

At these words, the two men's eyes fluttered close as their lips pressed in a passionate kiss. Lost in the love they felt for each other, Methos did not notice that the whoremaster was glowing with that same white light that had earlier surrounded the colt. Neither did he sense the transformation in the younger man. When they pulled away to breathe, a cry of delight escaped Methos's lips, seeing the beauty of the concubine restored to him once more. Even Duncan was awed, as he felt his face now turned back to normal.

The Ancient lifted the concubine in his arms and carried him over to the bed. As they sank down on the silken sheets, Methos whispered, "I love you, Duncan! For all eternity, I shall love only you!"

"Don't say anymore, Methos," Duncan muttered huskily. "This is our last night together. Just show me! Please show me!"

At these pleadings, the Immortal lowered himself upon his lover's luscious body, aching to possess the concubine utterly.

Before he could succumb to his passions, Duncan glanced at the hidden panel behind the wall, a grateful smile turning up the corners of his full lips.

 

The Odalisk had seen the concubine's gentle smile. It was the demon who had healed Duncan. Yes, it was the human's last night on this Earth. Better that he be remembered and loved for what he was and not the hellish creature that he changed into because of the infernal crystal within his breast.

The demon grimaced, feeling the tug on the two hearts beating in its chest. Yes, it had felt jealousy, seeing the whoremaster surrender himself completely to his lover. True, it would have Duncan tomorrow, but it would not be the same. It would never be able to own the concubine the same way the Ancient had.

The memory of a sweet smile filled its mind. That smile...it held so much promise. But Duncan would never love it as he had loved Methos.

With a sigh, the Odalisk wearily trudged back to its domain. Tomorrow is only a few short hours away. A few short hours and Duncan would belong to it. And, yes, even the world as well.

So why was the demon not looking forward to it?

Choose your Master wisely, Little Prince, the Odalisk advised inside its mind. The fate of your world lies in your hands. But whatever your choice will be, all those who have tormented you shall be the first to perish.


	19. Chapter 41

 

**CHAPTER FORTY-ONE**

 

On the outer borders of Ain Mehira, the Sultan of El Djezair observed the exodus of the last ragtag band of the city's inhabitants through a long scope. As he tucked the segments of his telescope close, three riders broke away from the stragglers and rode towards him. Halting their steeds before the esteemed ruler, Joseph, Abdullah Bakkar and Rashad bowed respectfully to him.

"My Lord, this is the last of them," said the Watcher. "The only people still in Ain Mehira are those who remain loyal to Emir Zaid al-Bahir."

"Fools who remain fanatically loyal to an evil leader," Rashad muttered in disgust.

Although the Sultan nodded, a dark frown formed on his brow. "This is too easy. I don't like it. The Emir should have made moves to stop the people from departing, but there is resistance whatsoever."

Abdullah put in, "Perhaps it is because Zaid al-Bahir believes that, once the demon is free, there is no place on Earth safe from it." The Bandit Chief gazed at the horizon where the shadow of the moon peeked at the edge. "In a few hours, it will all be over for us, if we don't put a stop to it."

"As if we could do something about it." The Emir Boadim al-Deneb crept up beside the Sultan, sitting on his white stallion. "The only thing we could do is to sit here and wait. If the demon should escape from the city, it will be our duty to stop it from proceeding any further. That is the plan after all."

Khassim, who was beside his master, turned to gaze at the massive army waiting behind them. The Sultan's troops, al-Deneb's men, Abdullah's bandits, and, surprisingly, an armed contingent of the Watchers-- all awaiting the command to attack, all ready for the coming battle.

"It is difficult to wait, not knowing what is happening in there," the moor commented. "The men are restless, but they will wait for our signal."

The Sultan gave a wry laugh, tinged with deep worry. "Never in my lifetime did I imagine that I would be fighting side by side with bandits. Ironic, is it not, that the survival of all humanity depends upon an ancient Immortal and, more so, a brave, beautiful whore." He looked at his companions one by one. "I do not want Duncan MacLeod to die."

"Neither of us do," said Boadim. "That young man has suffered all these years. His life should not end like this."

"But this is what he wants," Abdullah remarked in deep sorrow. "To die with the dignity and honor that was taken from him in life. To sacrifice all for the sake of those he loves. A warrior's death."

Khassim, however, countered, "I do not believe that Duncan will give it all up so easily. I refuse to believe it."

"That is why we are all here -- soldiers, bandits and learned men," the Sultan declared. "We shall not allow this sacrifice to take place."

"But if it does?" queried the Bandit Chief.

"Then we shall see to it that Duncan does not give his life in vain," said Boadim firmly. "We shall finish what he started. We shall destroy the Odalisk, and send it and its master, Zaid al-Bahir, to the gates of Hell."

Joseph lowered his head, eyes closing. _Choose wisely. __Duncan__, please keep yourself safe. Our salvation would not be the same without you._

 

Abdullah Bakkar turned somber eyes to Ain Mehira. _My dear wife __Merida__! My loving son Mikael! I pray to you to watch over Duncan MacLeod. Please let no harm befall him. And Methos...take care of our __Highland__ Prince. If he should die today, I swear, by my sword, that your life shall be forfeit._

 

Duncan sat inside his chamber, head lowered, as the four serving women, two of them Liamina and Tamar from the caravan, went about grooming him for the ritual. The concubine was dressed in a white and silk caftan of watered silk. The hem and collar were embroidered with gold roses. A necklace of diamonds adorned his long, graceful neck. His face was lightly dusted with powder and his lips painted rose red with vegetable dye. His beautiful eyes were shaded with kohl.

The whoremaster slowly looked at himself in the mirror. His luxurious brown tresses had been brushed meticulously, giving it a lustrous sheen. A jeweled band circled his brow. Three serving women, Tamar included, were painstakingly affixing tiny gemstones to the strands of his hair. A second vial was offered to him with much hesitation by Liamina. Sighing, his lips parted to allow the woman to give him the drug to drink. When he had consumed all, Liamina got down on her knees once more and opened his caftan, pulling the garment down from his shoulders and baring his chest. With gentle care, she kneaded his filling, aching breasts. As he looked on, Liamina squeezed his nipples between her fingers, pearly white drops forming at the tips.

Duncan closed his eyes for a moment, wanting to shut out his image in the mirror. But his reflection remained etched inside his mind. The image of a whore.

There were fearful expressions on the faces of the women when the whoremaster raised his hand, a clear order for them to stop.

"It's all right," he gave them a reassuring smile. "I could finish this on my own."

"But...we cannot," Tamar stammered. "Our Lord...the Emir...he would be very angry with us."

"His anger is the least of your worries. All of you, please leave me now. Better yet, leave Ain Mehira and don't look back."

Liamina fell to her knees before the concubine. Taking his hands, she begged him, "Please, dear Prince! You must come with us."

Duncan smiled and brushed away the strand of hair that fell on her brow. "My destiny is here. I cannot leave this place. Liamina, please take care of sweet Zumillah for me. I will forever hold the memory of your daughter here in my heart."

"No," the serving woman shook her head. "You speak as though you're going to die. I won't let you stay here to die!"

"Better me than all of humanity." The whoremaster pressed his lips to Liamina's fingertips. One by one, he shook the hands of the weeping servant women. "Go now! Please! I will not have you die in this place with me."

Tamar eased a hesitant Liamina to her feet. Turning to her young master, she asked, "Is there anything that we could do for you, my Prince? Any final service?"

"Yes, perhaps there is one last thing."

"What is it?"

Duncan looked at the women through the mirror. He could see the hope in their eyes. "Pray for me."

As one, the women gazed upon him with concern, crestfallen that their Master was determined to remain. The four women gave the concubine a respectful bow before departing.

When he was finally alone, Duncan took a deep breath, hoping to halt his tears with that sudden in-rush of air. His tears came, nonetheless, as he exhaled. He wrapped his arms around his body, hoping to calm his nerves. If only Moeru were here with him, perhaps he would have the strength and courage to meet his fate. And then there was Methos. With his sworn love and tender kisses, the ancient would have given his heart and soul a taste of freedom and Heaven.

The concubine stood up, shaking his head. _No, if they were here, they would just dissuade me from my cause. I have to do this, for the sake of all whom I love. But still, I would give anything just to hold them in my arms again. Forgive me, Methos, Moeru, for letting you both down. I hope the two of you are together now. I don't want either of you to be alone._

There was a soft tinkle as a ruby fell loose from his hair and landed on the tiled floor. He stared at the gemstone, lying between his bare feet with the jeweled ringlets glittering at his ankles. Rather than pick it up, Duncan went towards his chest, not minding the gems that fell from his silk tresses. Kneeling, he opened the trunk. He reached under his old garments, removing the false bottom. Carefully, Duncan pulled out his most prized possession, something he had purchased during his travels in Europe.

As he pressed his cheek against it, the whoremaster's jaw hardened. Gazing out the window, he saw the shadow of the moon rising up to the sky for its rendezvous with the sun.

"If I am to die this day," the concubine swore firmly, "I swear I will not die a whore."

As he spoke this, two insidious voices whispered inside his head, "We are waiting for you, Little Prince. Are you ready?"

Duncan wiped away his tears with his hands. "Give me a few minutes more. I'll be coming to you."

 

"Where the hell is that whore?" Kronos fumed and frothed at the mouth. "I told those women to bring them here once they are through prettying him up!"

The Four Horsemen stood before the closed doors of the Odalisk's chamber. Same as Kronos, Caspian and Silas were dressed in black robes, ready for the conjuring. Silas glanced worriedly at his ancient Brother. Methos was leaning casually against the wall, his tied hands behind his back. Sitting beside Methos, with coal black eyes wide with fear, was Moeru.

The ancient laughed mockingly, "Perhaps he has already escaped with those serving women."

Kronos glared at his Brother. Striding towards Methos, the leader of the Horsemen let his hand fly out, granting him a hard slap on the face. Moeru growled at Kronos, but the ancient extended his leg before the colt. Turning his face to the side, Methos spat out blood from inside his mouth.

"Let's just say he hasn't escaped," Methos began, an evil glint in his eye, "but do you think Duncan a fool that he would ask the Odalisk to grant your wish? Your precious Little Whore is not that stupid!"

 

"You still haven't gotten it into your thick skull?" Kronos spat in Methos' face. "As long as I have you and this poor excuse of a horse, my Little Whore will do everything I say!"

"You don't know him like I do. You'll be making a big mistake if you underestimate him." The ancient turned to Silas, who had lowered his head in shame. "What about you, Silas? I thought you loved Duncan. Have you turned traitor as well?"

It was Kronos who answered, "But, like you, he is also my prisoner. He has no choice but to obey."

Ignoring him, Methos cried, "What the hell did he promise you, Silas? That he would spare Duncan? If you complete this ritual, you condemn Duncan to eternal darkness! You'll doom us all!"

Somehow, Silas managed to give his Brother a sorrowful smile. "I know what a big fool I am for allowing to go through with this. But things have already gone too far for us to stop. Only one man could do something about this, and I trust him. You spoke strongly that he is not to be underestimated. You must believe in him now, Methos. Duncan needs you to have faith in him."

Methos fell silent. Silas always manages to hit his words home. Despite his declaration earlier, the ancient harbored serious doubts. He still had no idea which master Duncan had chosen. So much is riding on that one choice. The outcome, however, would still be the same. If only he could share Silas' faith.

"Giving up so easily, Old One?" Those two voices whispered insidiously inside his mind.

Methos was about to speak, but Caspian interrupted, "Shall I go and get the whore?"

Kronos shook his head. "No need. We shall let the Odalisk go to him, and we shall follow with our prisoners." The Horseman grinned. "Give Duncan a little incentive so to speak."

Going towards the closed doors, Kronos, Caspian and Silas raised their arms above their heads and began to chant.

The ancient glanced down to find Moeru looking up at him, the colt's eyes wide and alert.

"Did you hear it too, Moeru?" Methos whispered to the little horse. "It was the Odalisk, wasn't it?"

Moeru quickly nodded.

Methos moved so that his bound hands were waving before the colt's round eyes. "Help me free, Moeru. We must save Duncan ourselves."

Moeru did not have to be told twice. He pressed his nose to the Immortal's hands and proceeded to gnaw through the ropes. Methos waited impatiently for the colt to finish his task, all the while watching the other Horsemen as they chanted the spells of the rituals. Moeru had nearly cut the ropes when Kronos suddenly lowered his arms.

"Something's wrong," the leader of the Horsemen declared.

Reaching out his hand, Kronos pushed on one of the doors, and it slowly opened. A frown formed on his face as he looked at Caspian. As one, Kronos and Caspian entered the chamber, with Silas following behind him.

The ancient had just freed himself from his bonds when he heard Kronos bellow, "DAMN IT! IT'S NOT HERE!"

"Can't you see?" Silas replied, with a trace of sarcasm in his voice. "It doesn't need us anymore. With Duncan now willing, he himself is allowing the demon to tap into his powers lodged inside the Methuselah Stone."

"Duncan, you mustn't!" Methos muttered under his breath as he let the ropes slip from his wrists. "You don't know what that thing might do!"

Before he could escape, the ancient stopped in mid-step as a frigid aura enveloped his entire being, his vision wavering and dimming. Blinking hard, he found himself looking through the eyes of another, who was walking through the hallways of the Palace. This person, however, was not going to the catacombs; he was heading for the Throne Room. Reaching the chamber, there was an apprehensive pause before the ornate doors, followed by a quick glance down at the floor...and at the ivory dragon's head kilt of the katana he held tightly in his hand.

A gasp escaped Methos' throat, seeing the door of the Throne Room open a crack, and a male and female voice said invitingly, "Come in, Little Prince! We've been waiting for you!"

"DUNCAN, NO!" Methos cried aloud and in his mind.

In his ear, he heard Duncan stammer, "Methos? What? Where?"

The telepathic connection between them, however, was cut off. Having heard his cry, the three Horsemen rushed out of the demon's erstwhile prison, stopping at the doorway to stare at the ancient. Kronos immediately noticed the pallor in the ancient's face.

"You know where they are!" the Emir of Ain Mehira shouted in accusation. "My whore and the demon!"

Before Kronos could say anything more, the door was kicked close by a grinning Moeru.

Methos called to the smart colt, "MOERU, RUN!"

Together, Immortal and horse ran through the catacombs, making their way through torturous hidden passageways in the hopes of eluding their pursuers, heading up to the Palace. Soon enough, they reached Methos' chamber. To buy them time, the ancient locked the hidden entrance. Sure enough, he heard a furious Kronos and Caspian banging on the door. Moeru whinnied excitedly, reminding the ancient of the urgency of their mission. Nodding, the two friends hurried to the Throne Room.

Just as they turned at the main hallway, Methos saw Duncan standing before the Throne Room, its doors now wide open. The ancient's breath was caught in his throat.

Instead of the usual desert garb, Duncan had chosen to wear the clothing from his homeland. The concubine was clad in a white silk shirt with lace at his throat and at the wrists of his flaring bell sleeves. His kilt bore the green and blue colors of his clan, the extra length of it simply slung over his left shoulder. His silky brown tresses were like a cascading waterfall down his back. The whoremaster looked every inch like a Highland prince.

Hearing the noise, Duncan turned to face Methos. At first, both men couldn't speak. Then, a heartbreaking smile formed on his full lips, tears filling his chocolate brown eyes.

"Goodbye, Methos, Moeru!" Duncan said softly, giving his lover a final bow.

"DUNCAN, NO! DON'T!" cried the ancient, breaking into a run, as the whoremaster took a step towards the room.

Before the ancient could reach the younger man, however, the doors slammed shut. Frantic, Methos and Moeru banged and kicked on the doors with fists, feet and hooves, trying desperately to get in.

"Duncan! DUNCAN!" Methos shouted in blind panic. "Open this damned door!"

There was familiar laughter behind him. Whirling, the ancient faced the three Horsemen.

"It's out of your hands now, Brother," Kronos sneered at him. "You're too late! Duncan belongs to the demon now!"

Sure enough, inside the Throne Room, the Odalisk declared, "So beautiful you are tonight. A true Prince of the Highlands!"

Cackling, Caspian called out to the concubine within, "Don't forget your Master's wish if you want your lover to live!"

"DAMN YOU!" Methos lunged at Kronos, fingers bent into claws, eager to rip the Horseman's head from his neck. Caspian quickly stepped forward, brandishing his sword, ready to defend his Brother. Silas, on the other hand, grabbed Methos' back, holding him in a bear hug.

"No, Methos!" Silas muttered in his Brother's ear, his voice strained. "They're armed! You won't stand a chance against them!"

"Because of them," the ancient pointed a furious finger at the two Horsemen, "Duncan is going to die!"

Silas slammed Methos against the wall. "Get a hold of yourself! There is nothing we can do...for now. It's all up to Duncan now."

"Damn it, Silas! Are you saying that I should just stand here and do nothing while Duncan...and that demon..."

"YES, WE MUST WAIT! Wait for Duncan to perform what he is destined to do! Wait for the outcome!"

"And after... What happens after? Could we bring Duncan back to life?"

"Have you forgotten that he is Immortal?" Silas rasped inside his ear.

Something long, hard and sharp was pressed into Methos' hand. Silas moved that same hand so that the Ivanhoe was concealed behind his Brother's long leg as well as the length of his robe.

The Horseman gazed at Methos with firm determination. "After...it will be our turn to do what needs to be done."

 

"Merciful Allah!" Boadim al-Deneb exclaimed, training his telescope in the direction of the city once more. "There are women out there!"

To everyone's surprise, it was the Sultan himself who rode out first. After brief glances at each other, Joseph, Khassim and Abdullah followed after him. Just as they reached the frightened stragglers, black-clad soldiers on horseback started pouring out of Ain Mehira.

"Come on! Hurry!" the Sultan ordered as he pulled Tamar up on the saddle behind him. The other women went with Joseph and Khassim.

Liamina, however, countered, "No! We cannot leave! Our young Master...he is still in there! Please! You must help me rescue him!"

A hand reached down to her. Looking up, she beheld the smiling face of the Bandit Chief.

"It is Shinno who told you to leave this place, did he not?" Abdullah inquired.

"Yes, but..."

"He would not order you this if he didn't want you safe."

"Please, Liamina!" Khassim begged her. "We must go before the soldiers capture us. Think about your daughter, Zumillah!"

"I cannot leave my Master!" argued Liamina, tears trickling from her eyes. "If it were not for him, my daughter would be dead!"

"Then, live for your daughter, Liamina!" Abdullah said firmly. "Heed Shinno's words! Do not let his sacrifice be in vain! Please come with us!"

For a moment, Liamina hesitated, glancing back at Ain Mehira and at the soldiers who were riding out. Nodding, she allowed the Bandit Chief to help her get on his horse. Swiftly, the four men returned to their troops, and Emir Boadim al-Deneb, who was patiently waiting for them with Rashad beside him.

As the soldiers helped the women down from the horses, the Sultan asked breathlessly, "Where are they? Are they following us?"

Boadim, however, shook his head. "No."

At that reply, the three men gazed back at the oasis.

The soldiers had formed a protective cordon around the city, all determined to defend Ain Mehira and their evil Master with their lives.

Joseph looked grimly at those dark-clad warriors, before turning his eyes to the heavens. The moon's shadow had already traversed half the distance between the horizon and the blazing sun.

"So..." the Watcher softly remarked. "It has finally begun."


	20. Chapter 42

 

**CHAPTER FORTY-TWO**

 

Duncan nearly jumped as the doors slammed shut with a loud bang behind him. However, his attention was soon focused upon the monstrous figure seated on the throne.

True, the Odalisk's fierce, grotesque countenance could strike fear in the hearts of any man who saw it. Now, however, the demon's entire body had assumed a chalky, dirty-white hue, like unpolished marble. Indeed, at first glance, the concubine thought that it was a statue instead of a living being. As it stood up, it was even bigger than he remembered. This time, the Odalisk was completely naked, revealing to his startled brown eyes those full, pale breasts and their large nipples and the enormous member that was already standing erect.

The Odalisk's eyes focused upon the sword the concubine held in his hand. "Do you want to kill us, Little Prince?"

Duncan glanced down at the sword, but in his fear, would not release it. "No. I just decided that..." He lowered his gaze. "I don't want to die a whore."

"And this explains the warrior garb from your Highland home," the demon mused. "Still, so beautiful you are tonight. A true Prince of the Highlands! Is it your intent to do battle with us?"

"No," the concubine repeated. "I made a promise to you, and I always keep my promises. It's just that..." As he raised his head, a tear trickled from his eye. "For once in my life, I want to feel like a true Highlander again. This...sacrifice...I want to face it as a warrior and not a dolled-up whore." Duncan shook his head. "I'm sorry. I really don't know how I could explain myself any better."

"Garments do not a warrior make, Little Prince," the Odalisk told him. "Your willingness and courage to face us now and accept your fate are traits of a TRUE warrior. Even those who profess to be your masters outside cannot claim to possess such qualities."

"I've asked you this before. After we do this, what happens after?'

"And I told you before as well, it would depend upon your choice of a master and his wish."

There was hesitation in the whoremaster. His hand flew up to the crystal he knew was inside his chest. "Do you know that I have the Methuselah Stone inside me?"

To his surprise, the Odalisk shook its heads. "No. We did not."

"Your...attraction...towards me. Your desire to do me some kindness by healing my wounds. Perhaps it was this crystal that was the cause."

An almost human smile formed on the face of the demon's female head. "No, Little Prince. It was definitely not the crystal. That first time we saw you when you were still a child, there was something about you that drew us to you. It was so strong that we couldn't help NOT doing anything to ease your sufferings. At first, we did not know what it was. But when we you left us, we realized that it was your soul that touched us. No man, not even that sniveling bitch who was the first sacrifice, affected us this badly."

The Odalisk bent down and picked something up behind the throne. Slowly, it went down the stairs of the dais and handed it to the concubine. "Here, Little Prince! You left this behind when you went on your journey."

Duncan took what the demon was giving him. He saw that it was an old rag doll, a fragile image of a little boy. As he hugged the doll close to his cheek, the memories came flooding back.

 

_The _ _Highland_ _ child was weeping as he ran through the catacombs, his abused body and the bleeding region between his small legs causing him agony with every step. Blinded by terror and pain, he ran right into the arms of the demon._

_"Pretty Little Whore!" the male head cooed to him as strong arms lifted him up. "Why do you weep?"_

_"I'M NOT A WHORE!" the child screamed. "STOP CALLING ME A WHORE!"_

_The female head glared at her male counterpart. "He is right! Do not call him that!" Cradling him in its embrace, she said, "That's it, Little Prince! Cry it all out! Tell us your pains. Don't hold it inside you."_

_And he did as he was told. It was the first time that the boy had revealed to anyone his story -- that he was the son of the lord of the keep, how he wanted to become a great warrior like his beloved mentor, the sacrifice he had done to ensure the safety of his dearest friend, his betrayal and abandonment, and, finally, his ultimate banishment from his clan. Throughout his narrative and his bitter tears, the Odalisk listened to him, its hands rubbing his back and brushing through his sable locks, healing the child with its meager abilities._

_When his sobs were nothing more than soft hiccups, the Odalisk seated him on its lap. The child gazed up at the two hideous heads that were staring down at him. Surprisingly, he felt no fear. Only that fascination. He even reached up a tentative hand to touch those bat wing-shaped ears. When the male head gave him a teasing snarl, he quickly pulled his little hand back, fearing he had angered it. With a snort of disgust, the female head willed one of its hands to wallop the male in the face, causing the child to burst into giggles._

_"How are you feeling, Little Prince?" she asked the boy._

_"I'm fine now," he grinned shyly. He flapped his now clean legs up and down. "See! No more pain!" Giving the Odalisk the sweetest smile, he said, "Thank you, milord, milady!"_

_Ruffling the child's hair with a clawed hand, the male head said fondly, "Such a pretty little boy, you are."_

_A blush rose on the child's cheeks. All he could say was a flustered, "Thank you." Regaining his composure, he beamed, "You know? You're really very nice!"_

_That remark was unexpected. "For a demon, you mean?"_

_"I wouldn't say that, but..." The little boy nodded once, humming, "Uhm hmm."_

_The female head raised her hand and pinched the child's nose. "You are a bad influence on us, little one!"_

_"Don't you mean I'm a GOOD influence?"_

_Silence fell between the two heads. The male head then remarked to its companion, "Why don't you give our Little Prince the present that you made for him?"_

_"A present? For me?" The little boy looked curiously at the Odalisk, but a broad smile formed on his face when the demon waved a rag doll before his brown puppy eyes. He eagerly snatched it out of the Odalisk's hand and hugged it tenderly._

_"It looks so much like you, child," the female head commented, smiling._

_"Yes, it does. I'm going to call him 'Little Prince', like what you call me." Remembering his manners, the boy said gratefully, "Thank you very, very much!" He then stood on the tips of his toes and bestowed sweet kisses on the cheeks of both heads of the Odalisk._

 

Tears flowed freely from Duncan's eyes as he embraced his childhood toy. "But Kronos would not let me keep my Little Prince. When it was time for me to leave Ain Mehira, he took my precious doll away, saying that a catamite like me doesn't need a toy. I never thought I would see my beloved toy again." He looked questioningly at the demon. "You kept it all this time?"

"Yes," the Odalisk answered. "It is yours after all. We thought you would want to have it back when you return."

"While I was journeying all over the world, did you watch over me? Were you the one who healed me during my travels? Or was it the Methuselah Stone?"

"You were out of our reach, Little Prince, to do anything to help you. With our powers trapped inside the crystal, our abilities are extremely limited. Even you here, we could only do little. As for the Stone... We told you this before, Little Prince. We only brought out what was already inside you right from the beginning. We believe the Stone, sensing your need as it has temporarily become a part of you, did the same. You have nothing to thank us for. Little Prince, you healed yourself."

"But, it was you, and your powers inside the Stone, that allowed this...gift...of mine to surface. Why should I not thank you! And...there is also something else to thank you for." Duncan raised the doll to it. "You took care of my dearest friend." He lowered his sword and set the doll down beside it. Slowly, he walked towards the demon until he was standing close to it. "Now is the right time. I come to you willingly, to...use...as you wish."

"Ah, but you've got it wrong, Little Prince. It is you who must please us."

Duncan looked quizzically at the Odalisk. Standing on tiptoe, he lifted his hands, caressing the demon's two faces. "I will try my best, but I will have you know. Should you desire me, you are free to do whatever you wish."

The Odalisk was about to say more, but the concubine silenced both of its heads with loving kisses on their lips. Heat, fueled by an emotion that was alien to the demon, filled its body. Contrary to its earlier words, its eight arms instinctively embraced the whoremaster. Human and demon did a slow dance, edging closer and closer towards the steps. As it sat down on the dais, it made to pull the young man to it. Duncan, however, eased away a bit. As the Odalisk watched, the concubine let the tail of his kilt from his shoulder. Before he could unwrap the plaid from his waist, the demon raised its four right hands in a halting gesture.

"Only your shirt and boots would do," the Odalisk suggested. "With that length of fabric around you, you look like an alluring siren."

Smiling at that praise, the concubine obeyed its wishes. Still, Duncan tarried, taking exquisite slowness to remove, one by one, the pearl buttons of his shirt. When he was done, he yanked it free from under his kilt and pulled it up and over his head. As hands gripped his trim waist, Duncan leaned forward, his milk-filled chest thrust before the demon's faces. Eagerly, the Odalisk embraced the young man and capture those engorged nipples between their lips. Duncan gasped as the demon suckled voraciously on his aching tits.

 

"I wonder what's going on in there," Caspian mused, poking the tip of his sword at a snorting Moeru. "Damn it! I want to see the demon fuck that slut out of his mind!"

Both Methos and the colt made to stand and attack the lunatic Horseman, but Silas quickly stopped them by raising his arm, blocking them. With jaw firm, he shook his head. With exasperated snorts, Methos and Moeru plopped back down on the floor. Leaning against the wall, he urged the fuming colt to lay his head on his lap.

When Caspian inched forward to harass the little horse once more, Methos casually warned, "I suggest you stop poking your sword at Moeru. This time, he might get it into his head to finish what he started. He might succeed this time in biting off that limp sausage between your legs that you call a cock."

Hearing this, Caspian stopped at once. Glaring at the ancient, the Horseman grudgingly took his seat beside Kronos.

Breathing in deeply, a wicked grin formed on Kronos' lips. "Come now, Brother!"

"I am NOT your Brother!" Methos said sulkily.

Ignoring that retort, the Emir of Ain Mehira continued, "Aren't you the least bit curious about what's happening inside? What a pity that we are deprived of the opportunity of witnessing the final performance of the world's best whore!"

Every muscle in Methos tensed, ready to spring.

"Don't, Methos!" Silas sternly cautioned his Brother.

"I can't sit here and do nothing!" the ancient hissed in his face. "Let me wring their necks!"

"Patience, Brother. Patience! It will be our turn to act soon enough."

"In the meantime, I don't know what's happening to Duncan."

"He's all right, Methos. I told you to have faith in him."

"Faith?" the ancient asked in sarcasm. "For all I know, he needs me right now. He could be in pain, weeping or the gods know what else!"

"Would you like to see, Old One?" the Odalisk's voice suddenly entered his mind. "Would you like to stand witness to our joining? Or, better yet, perhaps you would want to share in our bliss?"

"WHAT THE..."

Before Methos knew what was happening, his awareness was wrenched from his body. There was a disorienting, terrifying feeling of falling into a deep, dark abyss. Instead of the expected hard, painful landing, however, his descent was slowed until finally coming to a stop. Through his closed eyelids, some light seeped through. His ears caught the sounds of ecstatic moaning. Waves of pleasure shot through his body, originating from a region between his legs that did not exist in men. Before the sensations could ensnare his mental faculties completely, Methos dared to open his eyes.

At first, it was disconcerting. It was like looking through two pairs of eyes. But the obvious focus of attention was the tousled head between those muscular thighs, hand stroking an enormous member. That head lifted momentarily to reveal Duncan's flushed handsome face, tongue licking his full lips moist with the fluids from the demon's female orifice.

"Duncan!" Methos desperately called out to his lover. "DUNCAN!"

The concubine, however, did not hear him. With a graceful motion, he straddled the Odalisk's hips and sheathed himself inside that female opening. At the same time, he lowered his chest to the demon's two faces.

Methos gasped as alien, female sensations washed over his entire being like a tidal wave, the taste of the concubine's sweet milk filling his mouth. Duncan was exquisitely and painfully slow, determined to give his infernal lover pleasure, totally unaware that Methos was also a recipient of his erotic attentions. Their arrival at the peak proved to be a surprise for the ancient. Again, he felt like he was falling, but the buoyant waves of female orgasm cushioned his descent. What stopped him from surrendering to the sensations was a painful tightening in his groin, and a desperation to shoot his load from the massive cannon that was his cock.

Probably sensing the Odalisk's, and his, distress, Duncan carefully removed his now limp member from that velvet sheath. Coating that large, over one-foot long manroot with the copious juices from the demon's cunt, he then positioned himself on his hands and knees, pulling the Odalisk with him through his tight grip on that gigantic cock. Firming his hold on that member, Duncan took a deep breath and impaled himself on one-third of that immense length.

Seeing the tears that trickled from the concubine's eyes, Methos began to weep as well. "Duncan, no! Stop it! Please stop it!"

What answered him was the Odalisk's strained voice. "There's no stopping this, Methos! Not while he makes us feel so damned good!"

As the ancient looked on in horror, the demon's arms reached forward. The top pair gripped the whoremaster's wrists while the second pair of arms cupped his chest. The third pair of arms wrapped around Duncan's waist while the fourth pair spread and gripped his thighs. With one mighty move, the Odalisk sat back, yanking the young man with it, that the concubine was seated on its lap, fully impaled. That move and the tremendous pain of his tearing channel that followed caused a scream to be wrenched from Duncan's throat.

"Don't hurt him, damn you!"# Methos cried. "Leave him alone!"

This time, there was no reply, because the Odalisk was moving, thrusting upwards into the concubine's velvet heat. To Methos' dismay, he too was moving his hips in time with those thrusts. As he watched, the demon secured Duncan's hands behind its neck. Clawed fingers mercilessly squeezed those button nipples that they squirted out twin fountains of sweet milk. The hands that were earlier gripping the whoremaster's waist were now wrapped around the young man's burgeoning erection.

"AAAHHHH!" the ancient screamed as he orgasmed violently, his come flooding his trousers. He felt slickness on his hands from the concubine's spilling on the demon's hands. Methos thought it was over.

To his shock, however, Duncan lay down on his back, his body glistening with sweat, and tucked his legs close to his chest. The sight of the dew and blood-tinged rose blossom between his legs was an invitation the Odalisk could not resist.

"NOOOO!" the ancient bellowed in rage as the demon used the concubine once more. This time, the Odalisk's thrusts were rough and hard, eliciting grunts of pain from Duncan's full, luscious lips. Again, Methos felt his hips pounding along. It was like he himself was raping Duncan.

Overwhelmed by the mind-blowing climax, the Immortal at first did not realize that it was over at last. What registered to the ancient's bliss-fogged mind was the sight of the poor, but brave, concubine slowly getting to his feet. Duncan's beauty caused his breath to catch in his throat. Never had the whoremaster looked as beautiful as he was now -- his firm body flushed and bruised, the length of the MacLeod tartan coiled around his form, blood and other fluids trickling down his legs, and the Methuselah Stone shining in the space between his red wine nipples that continued to dribble milk.

"Have I pleased you, my friends?" Duncan asked breathlessly. Methos was taken aback by that word "friends."

"More than enough, Little Prince," the Odalisk replied, clearly sated. "More than enough."

"I have fulfilled my side of the ritual. Now, it is your turn."

To Methos' surprise, he could actually sense the hesitation in the demon.

The Odalisk then began, "Have you chosen your Master as I have advised you to?"

"Yes," the concubine nodded. "I have."

"And do you have his wish ready to be uttered from your beautiful lips?"

"Yes."

"Then, tell me, Little Prince. Which Master did you choose?"

There was a moment's heart-pounding silence. Duncan took a deep breath and gazed firmly into the Odalisk's eyes, chin raised proudly. "I am the Master of my destiny! I am the Master of my fate! No man is lord over me except myself!"

Methos felt tears of happiness pouring from his eyes at that declaration. Indeed, he could feel the joy in the demon as well.

"You have chosen wisely, Little Prince," the Odalisk said proudly. "As I knew you would. Now, tell me your wish that I might grant it."'

When the concubine spoke once more, Methos' heart suddenly stopped. His whole body felt like it was drenched in frigid water.

"One life for the lives of millions, my friends," was Duncan's answer.

"I do not understand," the demon remarked in confusion.

"Once you are freed from this prison, you will destroy the world of humanity that I hold dear. I cannot allow that to happen. I would rather die than see all humankind sent to extinction."

"Why do you make this wish, Little Prince? After the things you went through, the things you have suffered, why would you desire this miserable world to endure."

Tears welled up in Duncan's eyes. "Because not all people are at fault for the sufferings I have endured. I believe that even those who have done me wrong deserve to make amends for what they have done in some form in their lives. This world, despite its hardships and pains, is still a world of faith, hope, forgiveness and love." A smile formed on his lips. "I've learned this lesson from a man I care for above all else.I do not want to see this world destroyed." Duncan cocked up his head up proudly. "It is my wish that in exchange for the salvation of my world, you would take my life and my soul."

"NO, DUNCAN! WISH FOR SOMETHING ELSE!" cried Methos in despair. "BUT NOT THAT! DO NOT SACRIFICE YOUR LIFE, DUNCAN! FOR OUR LOVE, DON'T WISH TO DIE!"

Even the Odalisk was taken aback by this pronouncement. "Could you not be dissuaded from making this wish, Little Prince? You have chosen your Master well, but this is not the wish I expected to hear from you. I ask, no, I beg you! Wish for something else!"

To the ancient's dismay, Duncan shook his head. "No. This is my wish, and I ask that you grant it."

"NO, DON'T DO IT!" the ancient turned his pleas to the demon. "TAKE MY LIFE INSTEAD! PLEASE DON'T KILL HIM!"

But the Odalisk's sorrowful reply was, "Little Prince, your wish is my command."

Before he could argue, Methos was slammed back inside his body. With a heart-wrenching scream, he sat up abruptly. He found himself staring at Silas' pale face and Moeru's tear-filled eyes. Judging from their expressions and the rantings and ravings of a furious Kronos and Caspian, who were banging at the doors of the Throne Room, the Odalisk had made them aware of the concubine's choice.

"DAMN YOU, YOU SLUT! YOU WHORE!" Kronos raged. "OPEN THIS DOOR!"

Suddenly, the four Horsemen and the colt were plunged in darkness as the shadow of the moon covered the sun. Then, the door opened, revealing a blinding light inside the Throne Room. As one, they entered the chamber.

"DUNCAN, NO!" Methos screamed at the heart-breaking sight that greeted them.

Duncan was floating in the air, his kilt fluttering around him, the Methuselah Stone glowing from his chest. The Odalisk reached out its hand and plunged his clawed fingers through the whoremaster's breast. When it pulled its hand back, the Stone was in its grasp. It then placed the crystal through an opening in its own chest, the cavity sealing. Limp and lifeless, like an autumn leaf, Duncan sagged down to the floor.

Forgetting about the demon in their midst, Methos and Moeru rushed towards the concubine, with the ancient cradling his cold form in his arms. Moeru whinnied frantically, nudging that limp hand with his nose, but now, his beloved Master did not raise his hand to caress his brow. Methoswas horrified to discover that the Pre-Immortal Quickening that he had sensed in the young man was no longer present. He would not revive as an Immortal. Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod was dead.

A keening wail rushed out of the ancient's throat as he cradled his dead lover in his arms, rocking him to and fro. Even Moeru was howling in grief. Soon, another anguished voice joined theirs. As the Immortal and colt looked up, they saw that the Odalisk too was weeping and wailing over the loss of the dead whoremaster, all eight of its hands clenched into tight fists raised in the air. That infernal was deafening.

Then, suddenly, the Odalisk stopped its anguished cry. Slowly, it looked at the Four Horsemen one by one -- Kronos, Caspian, Silas and Methos. With teeth furiously gnashing, it began to glow with a white light, its palms open. When the light vanished, the demon held eight sharp swords in its hands.

With red eyes ablaze with grief and hatred, the Odalisk approached the Horsemen menacingly. "YOU'RE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS! BECAUSE OF YOU, OUR LITTLE PRINCE SACRIFICED HIS LIFE! IF WE CANNOT TAKE THE WORLD, WE WILL DESTROY YOU INSTEAD! WE WILL TAKE YOUR SOULS INTO HELL WITH US!"


	21. Chapter 43

 

**CHAPTER FORTY-THREE**

 

Methos' tear-filled eyes were wide with shock and disbelief, his eyelids blinking several times. He was desperate to wake up from this horrible nightmare he found himself in. However, the cold, lifeless body of his lover in his arms only served to jolt him back to reality. He hugged the concubine close to him, as his body was wracked by sobs.

Kissing his lover's lips, he wept, "Duncan! My beloved Duncan! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry I did this to you!"

There was a flash and a sharp sword was laid over his throat, the blade raising his chin.

"You should be sorry!" the Odalisk snarled in his face. "None of this would've happened if you had not abandoned him when he was still a child!" Seeing how distraught the Immortal was, the demon pulled its blade back. "I will give you a few minutes to grieve for the love you had lost, while I deal with your Brothers. Afterwards, get ready to die!"

In his blind grief, Methos was oblivious to the Odalisk's declaration. Neither did he notice it raise once hand, finger pointed to the ceiling. A beam of red light shot out of its finger and burst through the roof, sending chunks of debris falling down on their heads.

The Sultan and his companions saw the beam of red light pierce the sky.

Joseph's jaw dropped, tears welling up in his eyes, as he shook his head in despair. He knew what that ominous sign meant. "Duncan, no!" he whispered, disbelieving. "You can't be dead!"

Suddenly, the shaft of light branched out across the sky, forming a fiery lattice network high above the heads of the soldiers guarding Ain Mehira. All around them, the wind started to build up speed.

As they watched in horror, the net of light fell upon the soldiers, trapping them and their steeds. A swirling column of sand swallowed them up. Screams of agony, both human and animal, filled the air as the brisk particles of sand, scoured their bodies -- their skins peeling away to reveal the grotesque musculature beneath. They shouldn't have survived that infernal onslaught. But they did. When the tornado of sand died down, Abdullah gasped in terror and disgust, seeing that the soldiers and their horses had been transformed into ruthless marauders of raw, bloody, glistening flesh. Their leader pulled at the reins of his demon steed. As the stallion reared up, the leader waved his scimitar in the air and let out a fierce cry.

"Merciful Allah!" Khassim mumbled, sweat trickling from his brow, at the sight of that bloodthirsty demonic horde. "Do not abandon us.I pray you!"

 

First step, second step, third step... The Odalisk descended the steps of the dais one by one, its eyes burning with hatred as it stared at the Horsemen. Kronos and Caspian had their swords in hand, neither one showing any trace of fear. The same could not be said for Silas. Although the expression on his face was wary, his heart was pounding in his chest like a hammer. When he took a step back, the demon sensed his movement. Turning in Silas' direction, the Odalisk snarled at the Horseman.

Eager for battle and blood, that momentary distraction was the opening Caspian was looking for. With an ululating cry, he charged at the Odalisk, scoring with a gaping slash to the leg. The demon roared in pain as it fell to one knee. Furious, the Odalisk swung its swords at Caspian, which the Horseman easily evaded. With its attention diverted, it was Kronos' turn to lunge at the demon, plunging his sword in the creature's side.

Silas grimaced in dismay. It was obvious to him that the Odalisk had not yet regained its full strength, the only thing driving it was its hatred and grief over the loss of the concubine. Still, it fought back, slashing desperately at its two attackers. Silas gripped his axe tightly, wanting to even the fight, but it was fear that held him back.

Then, there was the sharp sound of the staccato clip clop of hooves descending the steps of the dais. A red blur swept past him, heading straight for Caspian.

A horrendous shriek, an octave that no man was capable of reaching, pierced the air. "LET ME GO, YOU LITTLE BASTARD! I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU!"

Silas' eyes widened in shock, seeing Moeru with his face firmly pressed to the Horseman's groin. No matter how hard he tried, Caspian could not free himself from the iron grip of the colt's teeth. In agony, the lunatic Immortal fell, sitting, on the floor. Still, the colt would not let go. Moeru was shaking his furiously that his mane flew.

Seeing Caspian's hands tighten around the hilt of his sword, Silas called out to the little horse, "MOERU, LOOK OUT!"

With a strong sweep of its hand, the Odalisk shoved Kronos into the far wall, and strode toward the Horseman and the colt. Its large bulk cast an ominous shadow upon the combatants. Caspian's eyes flew wide at the sight of the demon's raised sword.

At the same time that Moeru bit down completely on the evil Immortal's cock, the Odalisk's sword cut through his neck. Sensing the building up of the Quickening, a triumphant Moeru, with Caspian's bloody member between his teeth, took a few steps back. Pandemonium struck as Caspian's Quickening rushed out of his body in a blaze of lightning, smoke and deafening explosions, and struck the Odalisk squarely through the crystal embedded in its chest. Silas found himself screaming in terror, as the demon absorbed his Brother's life energy through the Stone in its chest. The Odalisk opened its mind to Silas, allowing the Horseman to witness the merging between Immortal and demon, bombarding him with disgusting images of the things that Caspian had done to the concubine. It seemed like an eternity passed, an eternity of insane visions, that Silas thought that his mind would succumb to the lunacy that had plagued his fellow Horseman. Mercifully, as the power onslaught stopped, the Odalisk shut down the mental connection between them. Breathless, Silas fell to his weakened knees.

As he panted for breath, Silas barely heard Kronos' cry of rage as he charged at the demon. The leader of the Horsemen bombarded the Odalisk with a barrage of strong thrusts and swift slashes. In his desire to avenge his Brother's death, however, Kronos was unaware that his adversary was surrounding by an unearthly glow, coming from the power source in its breast. With its powers back at full strength, the demon easily evaded the Emir's swipes at it, riling up the Immortal, forcing him to make that crucial mistake -- to forget that what he was fighting against was no ordinary human, but a creature from Hell.

As Kronos lunged for a strike, he knocked out one of the Odalisk's swords from its grasp. Before he could crow at his accomplishment, the demon grabbed the wrist of his sword arm, and sent flames shooting through his body. Kronos screamed in agony, arms flailing wildly, as he stumbled around and around the Throne Room, trying desperately to put the fire out.

What the Odalisk did next stunned Silas to the core of his being. With casual ease, the demon approached the burning figure, seven swords held in readiness. With its free hand, it held the top of Kronos' head. With the swiftness and precision of a butcher, the Odalisk severed the Horseman's arms and legs clean from its body. To Silas' horror, the demon deliberately left Kronos' head attached to his torso. The burning limbs twitched spasmodically on the floor, as though searching desperately for the body they were once attached to. With a wave of its hands, the flames died down, leaving the evil Emir in charred pieces on the floor.

At that instant that the Odalisk put out the fire, Silas' eyes widened in shock, getting a good look at the Methuselah Stone embedded in its chest. To be certain, he tentatively reached out to the crystal with his Immortal senses.

"Oh my God!" the Horseman gasped in shock, confirming what he had seen.

Swiftly, he turned his head in the direction where Methos was at. To his consternation, the ancient was still seated on the dais, the concubine's body in his arms. In his grief, his Brother had detached himself from the horror of reality.

"Methos! METHOS!" Silas yelled. "For God's sake, snap out of it, Brother! METHOS!"

But there was no response from the oldest Immortal. He just sat there, rocking Duncan's body back and forth, singing a lullaby that he had once sang to the whoremaster when he was still a child in Glenfinnan.

"Methos! Damn it! You must listen to me! It's about Duncan!"

Still, the ancient remained in that woeful position.

Seeing the difficulty that the Horseman was having in rousing his comrade back to the present, Moeru calmly trotted back up the steps. The colt paused beside the ancient, breathing warm air on his cheek. He was rewarded by a blink of his eyes. Before he could retreat back into his world of sorrow and mourning, Moeru let something long and wet fall from his mouth and land on Methos' thigh. As if dreaming, Methos slowly gazed down at the thing that the colt had placed on his lap. A horrified grimace formed on his lips, seeing that it was Caspian's severed penis. In disgust, he brushed the bleeding thing far away. As he wiped the blood from his thigh, he didn't notice Moeru hurry toward the severed member and plop down on the floor beside his precious prize.

At that moment, Silas' frantic cries reached his hearing. "METHOS!"

"Silas?" Methos asked, dazed and confused.

"LOOK AT THE STONE, BROTHER!" the Horseman called out. "FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, LOOK AT THE STONE!"

The ancient gazed at the Odalisk, whose broad back was turned to him. It was standing above the burned, bleeding pieces of human flesh that were once Kronos. To his disgust, the leader of the Horsemen was still alive, his eyes blazing with the light of insanity.

"YOU CANNOT KILL ME! DO YOU HEAR ME?" Kronos laughed madly, taunting the demon. "I AM THE END OF TIME!"

The Odalisk shook its head. "I think not!" It then slowly raised a heavy foot, ready to stomp down on the Immortal's face and crush it to a pulp.

Methos acted instinctively. Gently laying the concubine's body on the floor, he grabbed his Ivanhoe and raced down the stairs, taking the demon's fallen blade as he passed by. Putting himself between the Odalisk and the Horseman, he fell to one knee, using the demon's sword to stop the descent of that large foot. With his Ivanhoe, he granted his Brother, though unworthy of it, a final act of mercy by cutting off his head.

Kronos' Quickening rose as a white cloud, enveloping the ancient Immortal. Silas used that moment to lunge at the Odalisk with furious hacking blows with his axe, hoping to give his Brother time to recover.

A scream was torn from Methos' throat as Kronos' Quickening rushed through his body, scorching every nerve, tormenting his mind with visions of the cruelties the Horseman had inflicted upon Duncan as a child and as a man. Those visions did nothing to expiate the guilt he felt.

Pressing his hands to the sides of his head, his conscience cried in remorse, _"I am to blame! It's all my fault! How could I have abandoned __Duncan__ to that monster!"_

To his relief, the tumult of raw energy subsided, and the frantic whinnying of Moeru reached his hearing. Glancing behind him, Methos saw that Silas was being pushed back toward the wall by the Odalisk. Already, his Brother was bleeding from cuts and slashes where the demon's razor sharp blades connected. But the ancient was still too weak to help.

It was Moeru who hastened down the steps. The brave colt stood protectively before Silas, growling and teeth snapping. In an uncharacteristic move, the Odalisk gently pushed Moeru aside. Undaunted, the little horse trotted back to his defensive position before the Horseman. Again, the demon nudged him away. This happened several times, until at last the Odalisk straightened, arms akimbo, as it glared down at the Moeru. Methos could see the colt's eyes widen, focused on the Stone on the demon's chest.

"If you don't get out of my way, little one," the Odalisk began menacingly, "I will not hesitate to kill you, even though you are beloved by my precious Prince!"

Dredging up strength from the core of his being, Methos quickly got to his feet and ran toward his Brother and the colt with Ivanhoe in hand. Putting himself between his friends and the demon, he held his sword in both hands, the sharp tip pointed at the hellish creature. Seeing the Immortal's bravado, the Odalisk crossed its arms over its chest, glaring tauntingly at Methos.

"I will not let you harm any of my friends!" the ancient snarled in warning.

"So you want to die now, is that it?" the demon queried, the tone in its voice revealing its eagerness to battle with this oldest of Immortals. "Let me oblige you, Old One! It would please me greatly to wet my blades with the blood of the Immortal who had caused my Little Prince much anguish!"

At these words, the Odalisk raised its swords, assuming a position of preparedness for the battle that lies ahead. Now that its chest was bared and the Stone revealed, Methos gasped, seeing at once what had caught Silas and Moeru's attention.

The Methuselah Stone was glowing with a fiery red light. Within it, flames swirled around, evidence of the demon's power. But lying in the center of the Stone, surrounded by a pure white aura, was a tiny, naked figure curled up in a fetal position, sleeping like a child. Reaching out to that form with his Immortal's senses, Methos was immediately rewarded by a most pleasant sensation -- a gentle breath of clear mountain air and flowers.

"We've forgotten that he's Immortal!" the ancient heard Silas call out behind him. "Although his soul, his Immortality may be trapped inside the Methuselah Stone, he still lives, Brother! DUNCAN'S ALIVE!"

"Duncan..." Methos breathed the name of his beloved between his lips. Though his essence was resigned to rest from the sufferings he had endured for twenty-five years, indeed, Duncan was very much alive.

Then, from deep within him, the ancient heard Cassandra's voice utter her final prophecy before she died by her former lover's sword. _"An evil one will come, to vanquish all before him. Only a __Highland__ child, born on the winter solstice, who has seen both darkness and light, can stop him."_

At that moment, Methos knew what he had to do. He must destroy the Methuselah Stone. Assuming the same attack position as the Odalisk, he declared, "Are you just going to stand there like a statue? Come! Let's fight!"

With a roar, the demon charged at the ancient. Standing his ground, Methos lifted his blade, as the seven swords of the Odalisk came crashing down. The impact nearly brought the Immortal to his knees. With a mighty shove, he pushed back the demon's blades and did five evasive backward somersaults. On the last turn, Methos stepped against the wall, using it as a spring board. Leaping above the Odalisk, he scored with a slash in the space between its two heads. Before the demon could turn around, as he landed, Methos swept his sword in a wide arc, creating a huge gash in its belly. However, as he faced it, he saw the wounds he had inflicted, as well as its earlier slashes at the hands of the other Horsemen, heal rapidly.

Methos gritted his teeth. _"This is not good. Now that it has regained its full strength, it's virtually impossible to stop it! There must be a way!"_

Again, Cassandra's voice, more powerful this time, filled his head until it was ringing with the words. _"An evil one will come, to vanquish all before him. Only a __Highland__ child, born on the winter solstice, who has seen both darkness and light, can stop him."_

Then, his memory brought him back to that moment when Duncan made his choice. _"I am the Master of my destiny! I am the Master of my fate! No man is lord over me except myself!"_

Methos knew that it was the concubine's destiny to battle the Odalisk. But how? When his life force is trapped inside the Stone? When he himself prefers to lie in restful slumber after so many trials? How could he even find the will to fight a malevolent demon whom he considers his dear friend?

The ancient's jaw hardened in firm resolve, hands gripping his Ivanhoe tightly, as he eyed the glowing Stone in the Odalisk's breast.

"Forgive me, Duncan, but I have to do this," he muttered. "You have to choose once more -- to lie in blissful oblivion or be the champion of all mankind."

With a strong battle cry, Methos charged at the Odalisk, running toward it with the speed and relentlessness of a cheetah. A grin formed on the demon's face as it stood its ground. With his victim coming toward it, one swing of any of its swords and his life would be forfeit.

Silas and Moeru watched as the ancient rapidly closed the distance between him and the demon. They both could see the Odalisk step back in readiness to deliver the death blow. It was suicide, and there was no way on earth that Methos could escape from it alive.

"METHOS, NOOOOO!" Silas screamed, as he broke into a run with an equally panicking Moeru at his side, hoping against all hope that they could stop the Horseman in time.

Before he could get within reach of the Odalisk's swords, Methos suddenly fell to his knees and slid on the slippery floor. So swift was the move that the demon's supposedly fatal swings missed the top of his head by a mere inch. Stopping his forward motion by bracing his left foot on the floor, the ancient stood up, right hand reaching up to the Methuselah Stone.

As his hands touched the Stone, Methos screamed to his lover sleeping within, "DUNCAN! WAKE UP!"

At that contact, there was a blinding flash of light. Shielding his eyes from the glare, he could hear the Odalisk's roar of fury. Unable to see, he didn't notice the demon lift its sword.

"DIE, METHOS!" the Odalisk screamed. "DIE!" The ancient could only lower his head, waiting for the end to come.

** _CLAAAAAASH!_ **

That seemingly deafening sound of sword meeting sword rang out through the air. Despite the spots in his vision, Methos dared to open his eyes. He could see that both Silas and Moeru's mouths were agape, staring at something -- _someone?_ \-- behind the ancient. Craning his neck back, a gasp was elicited from his lips.

Duncan MacLeod stood above him, with the tartan of his beloved clan coiled around his naked body. The concubine had stopped the descent of the Odalisk's swords with his katana.

There was a wide grin on Duncan's lips as he said, "I guess it's my turn now."


	22. Chapter 44

 

**CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR**

 

"Duncan? Duncan!" A soft groan. "How could you sleep at a time like this? Yoo hoo! Duncan! Wake up, Duncan!"

Hearing that insistent voice, Duncan frowned, but did not open his eyes. Whoever it was, it sounded so much like Mikey. But Mikey was dead. How could the Bandit Chief's son be talking to him? Unless...he himself was...

Suddenly, there was a bloodcurdling scream, causing the startled concubine to sit up and look around his mist-covered surroundings. A dark, hulking figure lumbered out of the fog and trapped him in its strong, muscular arms. Duncan found himself screaming as well, discovering that he was in the clutches of the insane Horseman, Caspian.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU LITTLE BITCH!" Caspian roared in his face, shaking the whoremaster roughly till his teeth rattled. "BECAUSE OF YOU, I LOST MY COCK! BECAUSE OF YOU, I'M DEAD!"

"OH, SHUT UP, YOU OLD FOOL!" that familiar, exasperated voice declared. "GET A GRIP!"

Before Duncan could push the crazy Immortal off him, Caspian was hauled away. As he stared, wide-eyed, in shock, he saw that the Horseman was struggling, kicking and screaming in Mikey's arms. Seeing that Caspian was uncontrollable, Mikey clenched his right hand in a tight, hard fist and gave the fighting figure in his arms a fierce wallop at the top of the head. The force of that blow caused the evil Immortal to drop like a light.

Mikey breathed in relief. "I thought I could never get him to shut up!" He poked a finger in his ear. "The gunk in my ear has come loose!" It was then that he noticed the stunned expression on the concubine's handsome face. Grinning shyly, he greeted, "It's wonderful to see you again, Duncan!"

"Mikey? Is it really you?" Duncan exclaimed in disbelief, a glimmer of tears in his doe eyes.

In answer, the Bandit Chief's son rushed eagerly to his friend and gave him an enthusiastic embrace. Tears trickled down the whoremaster's cheeks as he returned Mikey's loving hug.

"Oh, Mikey! I never thought I'd see you again!" The concubine sobbed in bitter remorse, "I'm so sorry!"

The older man looked at his dear friend quizzically, "You're sorry? For what?"

"For bringing you into Hell with me. I'm sorry. I didn't know that you would be here with me as well. I only thought about saving mankind. I made that...sacrifice...without considering your soul."

"Hell? You mean this smoky place?" Waving his hands to disperse the mist, Mikey burst into laughter. "This isn't Hell!"

Duncan did a double take at that reply. "It isn't? If this place isn't Hell, what's Caspian doing here with us?"

"Don't you know? He's supposed to be a part of you now, like I am." The Bandit Chief's son grimaced at the sight of the awakening Immortal. "But the fool just won't accept the fact that he's dead!" Walking towards Caspian, Mikey rapped him on the head once more, causing the Horseman to flop back. Turning to the concubine, he urged, "Go on, Duncan! Take him inside you before he starts screaming again. He's giving me a headache! The Odalisk killed him for you, you know."

Fear overwhelmed the younger man. "I don't understand any of this. Even if I did, I don't want Caspian...inside me. Whatever that's supposed to mean."

"You can't act against the laws of nature, Duncan. Especially the laws of Immortal nature."

A frown of confusion furrowed the whoremaster's brow. "Mikey, what are you trying to say? Are you telling me that I'm Immortal?"

Mikey gazed heavenwards and exclaimed in joy, "Thank you, Allah, that he has seen the light! And I thought I was the dumb one!"

Duncan was stunned at this revelation. He certainly didn't feel any different. Then, the words of the Odalisk returned to him, particularly its explanation about the circumstances of his healing.

_"The Stone and we...we simply brought out what was inside you right from the beginning."_

"My Lord!" the concubine muttered, refusing to believe. "I'm like Kronos and the Horsemen? I'm like Khassim, Kamir, Mikey, and...and Methos? I'm...Immortal?"

"Duncan?" Mikey chimed in, drawing the young man's dubious attention to the rousing Horseman. "You know, I can't keep on hammering him in the head."

Before he could ask how he could absorb the Immortal's Quickening, there was a strong tugging sensation, directed at Caspian. It seemed as if a hidden part of him knew all along what it was supposed to do. Closing his eyes, Duncan opened his arms in welcome to the evil Immortal and said, "COME!"

At that invitation, Caspian disintegrated into flashing lights that were sucked into the whoremaster's chest. Duncan winced, feeling strong resistance from the presence within him.

"It's all right," Duncan whispered soothingly. "Don't be afraid."

To his relief, Caspian's Quickening gradually quieted down.

"Don't worry, Duncan," he heard Mikey say reassuringly behind him. "He won't give you any more trouble once you're back inside your body." Smiling, he added, "It's wonderful to be inside you, you know. So nice, so warm, like being inside my Mama's womb or in one small corner of Heaven. He'll like it inside you, Duncan. I know he will."

"You've always been a flatterer, Mikey," Duncan remarked fondly.

The older man placed a hand over his heart. "Uh, uh! Mikey never sucks up to people's behind. Everything I say is the truth and nothing but the truth!"

"And that is one of the qualities I've always loved in you. Mikey, where are we anyway?"

"We're inside the Methuselah Stone."

"WHAT?" Duncan exclaimed in shock. "But how...why..."

"When the Odalisk took the Stone from your body, the crystal brought your soul along with it. You should have seen how upset and furious the demon was. It thinks you're truly dead, but you're not. You're still alive, and you will come back to life in the real world...once the Stone decides to let you go."

"Are you saying that the Methuselah Stone did this? What does it want with me? Mikey?"

When Duncan turned around to face his friend, however, Mikey had disappeared. To his astonishment, his surroundings have also changed. Instead of the thick of his earlier environs, the concubine was inside a deep dark forest.

Sensing the concubine's fear, Mikey's reassuring voice spoke out, echoing and ethereal in quality. "Don't be frightened, my dear friend! I'm here with you. The Stone only wants to show you something."

"But what?" Duncan's words mirrored his growing alarm. "What does it want to show me?"

Mikey chuckled. "You were right about the Odalisk, Duncan. Let the Stone show you who they truly are."

Suddenly, there was a rustling in the brush, and a huge snorting bull burst through. With a terrified cry, the whoremaster swiftly got to his feet and started to run. As he ran and ran through the forest, he tried to force himself to think that this wasn't real. That this was just a vision created by the Methuselah Stone. But if this were a vision, why could he heard the sound of the bull's thundering hooves getting closer and closer? Why could he feel the rabid animal's warm breath against his legs?

Overcome by terror, Duncan cried out, tears streaming from his eyes, "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

The concubine ran on and on, the bull in hot pursuit. Already, the young man was tiring. As he all but stumbled, he wondered what it felt like to be gored by a raging bull. Then, in the distance, he saw a small pond. If he could only reach the water in time...if he could only jump in...

In his desperation to get away from his pursuer, Duncan did not see the rock that was jutting out of the ground. With a surprised cry, he tripped on the rock, twisting his ankle. Unable to move, he could only stare in horror at the wild animal that was bearing down on him.

All of a sudden, there was a strange sound, like the tinkling of bells and flapping wings. From out of nowhere, a winged man appeared, leaping down upon the bull's, sharp dagger held in his hand. Furious, the animal tried dislodge its unwanted rider by bucking and kicking out. But the mysterious man held on. With a fierce war cry, the man plunged his dagger into the bull's neck again and again. At the final thrust, he severed the artery that blood gushed out in pulsating streams from its throat. The bull bucked once, twice. Then, with one last mighty bellow, it fell to the ground, a bloody carcass. The man casually reached down and yanked out his dagger. Wiping it on the grass, he then slid it inside its sheath. At that moment, he turned and looked at the astonished whoremaster, a gentle smile on his face, his blue eyes shining.

Duncan blinked his eyes several times, but he knew he was not dreaming. His savior was indeed an angel. But his garb was different from the angels he had seen in his mother's prayer book. This angel's golden garments resembled more the clothing of the Persian gods. As the angel approached him, he gasped in shock. Devoid of anger and anguish, its face not yet ravaged by the spell of evil, Duncan knew he was looking at the face of the male head of the Odalisk.

The angel knelt down before him, handing him a clean cloth. "You have blood on you. Please forgive me. Why don't you clean yourself up in the pond?"

Speechless, Duncan could only nod in gratitude and take the clean cloth. Before he could dip the cloth in the water, there was another surprise. In the clear blue water of the pond, reflected back at him was not his own face, but the face of a very beautiful woman with red hair. The face of the female head of the demon.

"Are you all right?" the angel queried worriedly. "You're suddenly pale. Do you feel like fainting?"

Finding his voice at last, Duncan stammered words that he knew came from the memory of the woman whose role he had now assumed, "No. The bull...it frightened me, that's all. I thought that I was going to die."Remembering himself, he fell down on hands and knees before the angel. "Thank you, my great lord Ahura Mazda! Thank you for saving your humble servant!"

Hearing him called by the name of the highest of the Zoroastrian gods, the angel raised both hands, waving them before him, as he shook his head.

"Oh, no! No!" he exclaimed, a blush forming on his cheeks. "I'm not the Supreme God. I am merely one of his _yazatas_."

"But you are a god in your own right, and your servant thanks you with all her heart for saving her life. I consider myself blessed that you came to my aid." Then, realization struck him. Duncan cautiously dared to gaze into the flustered angel's face. "How did you come to be here, honorable _yazata_? Earth is no place for a god such as you."

"Ah, but what you do not know is that there could be a Heaven on Earth." The angel lowered his gaze. Bashfully, he admitted, "I've been watching you, your Highness, and in your eyes, I see the beauty of Heaven."

A small gasp of pleasure escaped from the concubine's parted lips. Except for Mikey, never had he heard such heartfelt praise. To hide the blush that suffused his face, he looked down into the pool once more.

_"Your Highness,"_ the angel had called him. A titled for a member of a Royal Family. Indeed, the red veil he wore on his head was made from the finest silk and bedecked by an assortment of precious gems. There were jeweled bands on his arms and wrists. A teardrop-shaped ruby was pasted in the center of his brow.

"I'm but a mere mortal," he insisted. "Certainly I am not worthy of the affections of a god such as you."

The angel suddenly gripped his hands, holding them tenderly in his grasp. "Oh, but you are! Not only are you very beautiful, but you are also very wise, loving and a kind ruler to your people. Traits of a true goddess!"

"Be careful of your words. Ahura Mazda might punish you. No mortal could be a god. In the same vein, a god is forbidden to love a mortal."

"We shall see, your Highness, for why should Ahura Mazda create love if it were to be forbidden between a deity and a human." The angel gently kissed the whoremaster's fingertips. "I am Mithras, your Highness, begging you to give this minor god a chance to prove himself worthy of your love and affection."

"Mithras...the God of Light, the mediator between Heaven and Earth. You are also called the Judge and Preserver of the World." Duncan could barely disguise the awe in his voice. "What have I done that you should seek out my love?"

"You are not a mere mortal woman. If only you had seen what I have seen as I watched you in the Heavens. You are a beautiful woman who embodies all that is good. Your Highness, all the gods have nothing but praise for you. Asha, the Goddess of Blessings never ceases to shower her abundant gifts upon you."

At these gushing words, the concubine's face couldn't get any redder. "'Your Highness...' Please do not call me that. I am a Princess in the Palace, but not out here. You may call me by my name, Devi Mari."

Mithras beamed at the princess Duncan had become. "Oh my beautiful Devi Mari! 'Devi' means goddess, do you not know that? Devi Mari, you are indeed a goddess on Earth!"

 

Within the past reality of the Methuselah Stone had conjured up, Duncan watched as the forbidden love between a Zoroastrian god and a human female unfolded before his eyes. Having assumed the role of the Persian Princess Devi Mari, it was easy for him to understand why the young god Mithras had fallen in love with her. She was the epitome of virtue, admired by all Persians because of her unwavering, unconditional love she has shown for them. Devi Mari was also a gifted healer, never refusing any man or woman, whether they be rich or poor, who knocked on the doors of the Palace, asking for her aid. She will go to anyone who needed her, regardless of their illness. But the Princess had another reason for choosing such a hectic life that was contrary to her royal station. Devi Mari was a very unhappy woman, finding comfort and fulfillment among the masses than her own kind.

Like now, Duncan was in a small leper's camp, carefully applying poultices to an old man's leprous sores.It was a very arduous and risky endeavor, not just because of the possibility that she might contract the disease. Her father, King Cambyses, would be furious if he learned where his daughter was.

When he was through, the concubine emerged from the tent and into the sunlight. A sad little smile formed on his lips, seeing his otherworldly lover standing at the copse of trees. Wrapping his shawl around his shoulders, he approached the God of Light.

"Other women would have run into my arms," Mithras remarked with a wry chuckle.

Duncan shrugged. "You know I'm not like other women."

"Yes, and that is why I love you very much." The god made to kiss his beloved, but the whoremaster took a step back. Mithras looked at his lover curiously. "Is something wrong, Devi Mari?"

The concubine turned his back on the young god. "After this, I cannot see you any longer. My father promised me to Prince Reza."

Mithras stared at him aghast. "But you can't marry him, Devi Mari! We love each other!"

"As you have your duties, I too have mine. As Princess of this realm, I must marry him whom my father chooses to be my husband."

"What about us? What about our love?"

Duncan could feel anguished tears filling his eyes. "Right from the beginning, you know that we cannot be. If only I were not born a human AND a princess..." He turned to face the God of Light. "I dare not pray, I dare not hope for something I could never have."

Breaking into sobs, the whoremaster fled from his lover. Duncan ran and ran blindly through the forest. Suddenly, however, there was a lurching sensation in the pit of his stomach. To his surprise, he just found himself running through the torch-lit hallways of the Palace, heading for their small family temple for Ahura Mazda.

Reaching the temple, Duncan heard voices talking within. Although he did not recognize the soothing baritone of the first speaker, he knew immediately who the second speaker was, and he was very, very angry.

"Mithras, my son, if you will only be patient... You must let things come to pass. Everything will work out to your benefit, I assure you."

"I cannot wait! I will lose Devi Mari if I tarry any longer! I love her, my Lord! It would break my heart to see her wedded to another!"

"Mithras..." the concubine whispered the young god's name. "You don't know how close you came to losing me."

Glancing to the side, Duncan looked at the pitiful image of Devi Mari reflected back at him through the shiny bronze vase. Her shift was torn at the shoulder. There were bruises on her wrists. A dusky hand print marked the swell of her breast. Before he could check for the telltale signs of defloration, Mithras' furious voice broke the silence.

"If you will not help me," the God of Light declared, "then I shall go to someone who would."

As he emerged from the temple, Mithras immediately saw the disheveled whoremaster cowering behind the vase. Going towards him, the god placed strong hands on his trembling lover's arms.

"Devi Mari, what's wrong?" Mithras asked in grave concern. "Who did this to you?"

"Prince Reza..." Duncan's voice shook with fear. "He would not wait until we are married. He almost... I was able to get my dagger in time. I told him that I would kill myself if he tried to take me." The concubine flung his arms around the young god's neck. "Oh, Mithras! I know it is my duty. But after this, I cannot marry him! I cannot marry a man who would treat me as a whore!"

Mithras embraced his beloved, his jaw hardening in firm determination. Clutching Duncan's face in his hands, he said urgently, "Devi Mari, I want you to come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"Trust me, my love, when I tell you that there is a way for us to be together."

"But how? What about Ahura Mazda?"

"He has made it perfectly clear that he doesn't want to help us. Like I said, however, there is another way." Mithras held his hand out to the concubine. "Do you trust me, Devi Mari?"

Before Duncan could reply, he heard a soft sound, definitely a whisper. But he could not understand what the voice said. By its tone, however, it was definitely a warning. Unfortunately, love for the God of Light won over rational thought. Gazing firmly into the god's sky blue eyes, he nodded.

"I trust you, Mithras," Duncan answered, taking his lover's hand.

When their hands touched, again, there was that gut-wrenching lurch. This was followed by a disturbing sensation of falling from a great height. Thankfully, his descent gradually slowed and he was laid on a soft bed of what felt like dried grass. When an eager mouth pressed on his lips, the concubine knew what was about to happen next.

Making love with a god was not like anything Duncan had ever experienced. Not only was it a joining of the flesh, it was a total union of their minds, hearts and souls. Neither one knew where the other's pleasure began and ended and rose again. They were simply one being -- not god, not human. It felt sinful to share in this ecstasy. Even he was lost in the scorching love and passion that Mithras and Devi Mari shared with each other.

Duncan did not realize that tears were falling from his eyes as Mithras drove his aching length deep into his lover's virgin body. _What could be so wrong about this, Ahura Mazda? Why is it so wrong for them to be in love?_

As he abandoned himself to this unearthly bliss, it did not register to the whoremaster the place where they were at -- dark ruins of a long forgotten and forbidden temple. Their makeshift bed was made on top of a mysterious circle with smaller rings inside it. Ancient writing were inscribe within the rings. The circle pulsed with an eerie red glow that grew brighter and brighter as the movements of their bodies became harder and faster. When they reached the peak, just as rainbow-colored lights flashed before their eyes, beams of fiery red light shot out from the outer ring, striking a dust-covered standing against the wall.

At that impact, the earth began to shake, bringing the two lovers back to reality.

"What's happening?" the concubine exclaimed in fright, pressing close to his lover.

Instead of Mithras, someone else answered his question, its voice like the hissing of a snake. It cackled heartily as it replied, "I never expected that it would be you who summoned me, Mithras. And such a unique summoning. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. It's not everyday that you see a god rutting with a beautiful mortal. Oh, the power that you have suffused within my body! I should thank you for this, little god!"

"You can give me your thanks later when we come to the business at hand. I have no time for idle chat," Mithras said sternly. "Angra Mainyu, SHOW YOURSELF!"

Duncan's eyes flew wide in horror as the speaker stepped from the shadows. It was a most hideous being -- its face that of a feral, sharp-fanged beast, round eyes blazing with fire, a blood red ruby on its brow. On its back were two large bat wings. In its right hand, it carried a gigantic spear. So huge was this malevolent creature that it towered above their heads by a good two feet.

Angra Mainyu...that was the name that Mithras called this creature.

A terrified gasp was elicited from Duncan's lips as realization struck him full force in the face.

"Angra Mainyu..." the concubine breathed out that name, his blood running cold. "AHRIMAN!"

"I'm so happy to see that you know me, little princess." Transferring his spear to his left hand, Ahriman reached out his right hand to caress the concubine's cheek, but Duncan shrank back from him.

_My God!_ the whoremaster thought in growing panic, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. Ahriman was no ordinary demon. He's the Devil himself!

Pulling his hand back, the Lord of Demons grinned at the God of Light. "I could see why you are so taken with this lovely mortal. Her soul is so pure, and the love that pours out of her for you...it is so intoxicating."

However, the concubine noted the wicked expression on Ahriman's face, which clearly speaks, _"How it would please me greatly to see this heart and soul destroyed."_

"It is because of our deep love for one another that we have come to you, Ahriman," Mithras declared formally.

"Why?" Ahriman sneered at him. "Has Ahura Mazda abandoned you?"

Duncan stared in confusion at the God of Light. "Ahura Mazda...did he forsake us? Would he not bless our love? Did you not try to make him understand how much we love each other?"

Mithras did not reply, but his bitterness towards the Supreme God showed on his handsome face.

In his own heart, the whoremaster felt the disappointment of Devi Mari well up within him. With it was a very strong surge of rebellion.

At that moment, it suddenly registered to him what that voice he heard earlier -- Ahura Mazda's voice -- whispered in his ear. _"Don't do it! Patience -- that is all that is needed. Everything will work out for the both of you."_

But Devi Mari was deaf to those earnest pleas, her resentment towards the Supreme Deity overwhelming the clear danger to herself. Like Mithras, the only thing that she cared about was being with the man she loved.

Then, Ahriman asked, his voice tempting, enticing, "What do you wish from me?"

As the Princess' righteous indignation rose inside his heart, Duncan cried out, _"No, Devi Mari! Don't wish! It's a trick to get you to do what he wants!" _To the God of Light, he begged, _"Mithras, please don't do this! If you truly love her, you must not make this wish!"_

To the concubine's dismay, the lovers held each other tightly. For a moment, they stared into the other's eyes before turning to the Lord of Evil.

As one, Mithras and Devi Mari declared, "We wish to be together...forever!"

The triumphant smile on Ahriman's face was unmistakable. He raised his spear and pointed it at the two lovers. "Your wish is my command."

Duncan screamed in terror as red tentacles snaked out of the weapon. Two of those arms pierced their chests, enclosing their precious virtue in an impregnable cocoon, but leaving the hate and the little that was dark within them outside. The other tentacles coiled around their bodies, molding it into the shape the darkness inside their hearts desired. The pain was agonizing and the concubine thought he would go insane.

Strong hands, however, yanked the whoremaster's consciousness out of Devi Mari's body. Duncan just found his ethereal form kneeling on the floor, crying, as he watched the birth of the demon -- the Odalisk -- that was to be his friend in the distant future. Tears flowing from his eyes, he raised his hands to embrace the Odalisk. Since this was an event that has already occurred in the remote past, his arms passed through the demon, who stood up to face its lord and master.

"You asked a wish of me, and I granted your wish," Ahriman declared, pleased at his infernal creation. "Now I give this same power to you -- to grant wishes, but with a great price. Only a human with a pure soul could make a wish. However, the wish would not be this human's own, but that of his or her master. For this wish to be granted, this soul must satisfy the lustful cravings that neither of you could enjoy while in this hellish form. Then this soul must be sacrificed, and it shall belong to me in Hell for all eternity. Before I claim this precious soul, however, you could use its strength, culled from the sensual powers you have gained from it, for you to do what YOU wish. And what is your dearest wish, my dear Odalisk?"

The newborn demon answered eagerly, "To destroy this world that has caused our separation. And when it is in ruins, to destroy the Heavens and the god who has abandoned us and caused us pain."

"That is not true!" Duncan sobbed broken-heartedly. "He begged you to wait! It was never his intention to cause you pain. All you had to do was be patient and have faith in his will!"

"Sadly, however, Ahriman used the pain inside their hearts to his end," someone suddenly spoke behind him.

Whirling, the concubine beheld the formal visage of the Emir's adviser, Kamir. This time, though, there was an uncharacteristic smile on his face. Standing at his side was Mikey.

Noting the frown on his dear friend's face, Mikey reassured him, "It's all right, Duncan. You know, Kamir is really not that bad a person. He just fell into the wrong company. I forgave him for what he did to me. Besides, I saw that he really and truly loves you."

"You change people, Little Whore, for the better," said Kamir in all sincerity. With deep regret, he added, "I am ashamed that I could not overcome the darkness that was inside me. Could you forgive me, Duncan, for the terrible things I have done to you?"

A sad little smile formed on Duncan's lips. "It's not a difficult thing to forgive. Yes, Kamir, I do forgive you."

"We may not have gotten what I wanted, but I am happy and content with being a part of you. As I have not done in life, as expiation for my sins, let me help you in some small measure to save these two lost souls."

There was shining hope in the whoremaster's eyes as he looked at Kamir. "Are you saying that my friends could still be saved? Please, Kamir1 Tell me what I must do."

The Emir's adviser, however, shook his head. "It is not for me to tell you what you need to do. It is you who must figure it out for yourself."

Before he could ask another question, Duncan was suddenly enveloped by darkness. His ears immediately caught the soft, echoing sounds of weeping. A spot of light appeared before him. Lying in the center of that light, crying miserably, was the Odalisk, particularly the head of Devi Mari. Cuddled close to her breast as the rag doll her Little Prince was forced to leave behind. Although silent, Duncan could see the tears flowing from Mithras' eyes as well.

Ahriman's taunting figure circled the despondent demon. "What is the matter, my Odalisk? What troubles you?"

"I do not want to live like this any longer," was Devi Mari's straight answer. "I help people, heal them, not destroy their lives."

"You did not have this problem before."

"Because we needed to have a child to show us that our hearts could still care, could still love," Mithras put in. "This is not what we are, Ahriman. We know that that little boy is to be the sacrifice, but we cannot kill him! We love that child as though he were our own son!" Taking a deep breath, the erstwhile God of Light exclaimed, "We take back our wish! Restore us to our true forms!"

The Lord of Demons strode to where Duncan was standing, oblivious to the presence of the spirit in their midst. With a low growl, it muttered, "Damn those magicians and their gods for putting my Odalisk's essence inside that Stone! Damn them for hiding it in the pure soul of a Highland child! The power of his goodness has loosened my hold upon Mithras' and Devi Mari's true nature!"

The concubine's hand flew to his chest where the Methuselah Stone once lay in his unwitting safekeeping.

_"You change people for the better,"_ Kamir had told him.

Is it possible that he could defeat the ultimate evil?

That wicked smile formed once more on Ahriman's lips. "So you want to be brought back to your true forms. But what about you? I thought you loved each other, that you wanted to be together for all eternity." 

"The love has not died. We understand now what Ahura Mazda was trying to say," Devi Mari replied. "Our love would have remained strong inside our hearts, no matter how long it would take. If we had only waited, if we had only allowed nature to take its course, I would have been rejoined with my beloved in Heaven. But now, our love for the child is much stronger than the love we have for each other. Though he is not of our blood, he is like a son to us. We shall not sacrifice him to you."

"Ah, but unfortunately for you, that same sweet, innocent little boy is the key to your salvation."

Mithras gave Ahriman a suspicious glance. "What do you mean?"

"Many years will pass and your powers will be restored to you. At that same time, your precious child shall return to Ain Mehira, a full grown man." With a wave of his hand, the Lord of Darkness conjured up an image of the concubine as a man. An evil smirk quirked up his mouth, sensing the rise of desire within the beating hearts of his Odalisk. "Beautiful, is he not? Just the mere sight of him is enough to stir up the heat in one's loins."

The God of Light shook away the unwanted sensations. "We do not want him in that way!"

"That is what you say, but he will return as the greatest whore in the entire world, and you will partake of his sweet flesh! You would want to own him for ever and ever! Ah, but we have not come to the best part. The demon known as the Odalisk has always been intended to be a very sensual creature, something I find lacking in the two of you. What better person to become this demon than this sweet Little Whore!"

Devi Mari's eyes widened in shock, realizing what Ahriman was insinuating. "NO! NEVER! We would rather die than allow our precious Little Prince to take our place!"

"WE WILL NOT DO THIS!" Mithras strongly insisted.

"Then you shall stay in this form forever!" Ahriman said smugly, pleased at the expected answer of his prized creation. "Let me remind you, my Odalisk, that even if you have saved your gentle Prince from your fate, with the sacrifice of his life, his soul shall be mine. Either way, he will be condemned!"

Bursting into laughter, the Lord of All Evil vanished, leaving his poor minion, sobbing in anger and helplessness.

Willing one of his hands to rise, Mithras wiped away the tears from Devi Mari's face. "My love, forgive me! This is all my fault! I should have listened to Ahura Mazda!"

"Both of us are at fault," wept Devi Mari. "We were so blinded by our love for each other that we did not see the trap that Ahriman had set for us. I take this punishment willingly, Mithras. But the child! Our Little Prince!"

"We will do everything we can for our Little Prince. Knowing Ahriman, even without our willingness to go along with his schemes, he would do everything in his power so that our precious child would become the new Odalisk. Now that we have regained a small measure of your souls -- our conscience and a little of our healing gifts, we are no longer of use to him. I only pray that, while our Little Prince is far from our reach, Ahura Mazda would watch over him and give him strength to survive the terrible and degrading ordeal that lies ahead of him."

"I have no doubt that he will survive, Mithras. His soul is strong and pure. His goodness shall prevail. But...but I fear for what might happen when he returns to Ain Mehira."

"I'm certain Ahriman will try to transform him into a demon. I don't know how he'll do it, but with the meager healing power that we possess, we could stop him before he succeeds. And we shall guide our Little Prince in the wish that he will make."

"It's not only that. You felt it, didn't you, when Ahriman showed his image to us as a man. Those...urges... If he should come, I don't know if I could resist."

"Ahriman remade us in this loathsome form, Devi Mari. It is useless to fight it." The God of Light added sorrowfully, "Although we are together, we could never consummate our love for each other. That is one of our curses. All that is left to us is the desire, the lust."

Devi Mari shook her head. "No, Mithras! I will not use our Little Prince in this abhorrent manner!"

"He will be a grown man by then. I'm hoping that he would understand, that when the time of the sacrifice comes, it is not our intent to hurt him. If it should happen."

The former Princess of Persia gazed hopefully at her lover. "Do you think he would understand? Do you think he'll forgive us?"

"I pray that he will, my love," whispered Mithras, but the uncertainty was there. "He is our Little Prince after all."

As the vision of his poor friends faded away, Duncan wept, "There is nothing to forgive. You never hurt me. It was an honor for me to give you pleasure."

Then, a strange sight appeared before him -- a revolving globe with a thick, angry red mist swirling around it. But as the concubine looked closer, he saw that there were minute gaps in the mist through which white light shone. The mist closed around the gaps. The light, however, persisted in piercing through its prison.

Before the mist could seal it in once more, Duncan heard the plaintive cries of the captive souls of the two lovers.

"Help us, Little Prince!" Devi Mari begged him earnestly. "We have suffered so much! We have caused so much pain to so many innocent people! Free us from this torment!"

"Little Prince!" exclaimed Mithras. "You're the only one who can save us all!"

The whoremaster stared intently at that spinning ball of chaos and imprisoned goodness. He knew now why the Methuselah Stone had taken him into its heart -- to see the truth and to do something about it. His jaw hardened, hands clenching into fists, as righteous anger filled his entire being.

Kamir went up beside him. "Do you know now what you have to do, Duncan?"

"I think so," the concubine replied. However, there was a touch of hesitancy in his voice. "But what if I'm wrong? What if I make a mistake?"

"Lose the doubt from your mind and heart," Kamir advised him sternly. "Ahriman will use this against you. Believe that you will free Mithras and Devi Mari. Believe that you will win!"

A hand was laid on his right shoulder -- it was Mikey. There was a confident smile on his face. "I know you can do it, Duncan. Even Kamir believes in you. Don't be afraid. We'll be here to help you. So will Silas, Moeru and Methos."

Duncan smiled and nodded at the two Immortals who were now a part of his being. At that assent, the Methuselah Stone released his soul, sending it back into his body. With a gasp of life, the whoremaster returned to the land of the living, just in time to see Methos kneeling on the floor before the demon, his hand pressed to the Stone in its chest. As the Odalisk towered above his helpless adversary, with sharp blades raised, Duncan acted immediately. He dashed down the stairs and across the room, picking up his katana along the way. Insinuating himself between the ancient and the demon, he lifted his katana and blocked the fatal descent of the Odalisk's swords.

At his feet, the whoremaster heard Methos gasped out his name. "DUNCAN!"

Duncan would have laughed at the stupid, slack-jawed expression on his lover's face. Instead, he grinned and casually remarked, "I guess it's my turn now!"


	23. Chapter 45

 

**CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE**

 

So far, Rashad had been contented with his menial task of serving as runner for his superiors, passing on their commands to the respective generals of their troops. It was the least he could do. After all, he was the only one among them with minimal battle experience. Even Joseph was a warrior before he joined the Watchers. Still, he wished he could do more.

However, the young Watcher's blood suddenly gushed all over his body in an icy cold torrent, beholding the demon horde they were about to face. He couldn't help his shudder, seeing that macabre general ride back and forth before the living cadavers of both men and horses, rallying them to the grand cause of defending the infernal being that has now taken over Ain Mehira. To his dismay, judging from the concerned looks on his elder's faces, he knew that what meager confidence they possessed before was diminishing with every minute. All hope vanished at that telltale sign of the concubine's tragic demise.

Closing his eyes, Rashad offered one last prayer before they embarked on their suicide mission. "Dear Allah, please preserve us! Aid us in this battle ahead of us! I trust in you! I have faith in you! I know that you will not allow evil to triumph!"

Suddenly, there was the sound of soft giggles inside his head.

"WHAT THE..." the Watcher exclaimed in shock.

_"Don't be afraid, Rashad, my dear friend and mentor!"_ a soothing voice whispered in his mind. "All will be well! I promise you that!"

Abdullah Bakkar had been staring out into the desert, and the great evil that they were about to do battle against, when he heard the startled gasp of Rashad beside him. At once, a frown creased the Bandit Chief's brow, as he looked down at the young man. He knew that it was a name that the Watcher had spoken.

"MIKEY?" was the name that Rashad had uttered.

 

At first, Methos couldn't move from where he knelt. All he did was stare at the handsome figure standing above him, holding back the equally stunned demon who was about to kill him earlier. The ancient blinked several times, but the heroic vision didn't fade away.

Slowly, a glorious smile formed on his lips, tears of joy clouding his eyes. "Duncan's alive!" he muttered. "YOU'RE ALIVE!"

The concubine granted his lover a glance over his shoulder, a hint of mild exasperation on his face. He then said wryly, "Now that you know I'm alive, Methos, do you mind getting out of the way?"

At that remark, the ancient remembered their precarious position. "Oops! Sorry!" Swiftly, he stood up, grabbing his Ivanhoe at the same time.

As Methos backed up, Duncan used all his strength to shove the Odalisk a distance away. The ancient and Silas, with weapons ready, took their places on either side of the whoremaster.

"Yes!" exclaimed Silas, grinning broadly, as he twirled his axe above his head. "Let's send this thing back to Hell!"

To the surprise of the two men, Duncan waved them back. "No. You will do nothing. This is my fight."

"Are you crazy?" the Horseman asked in disbelief. "We could not defeat it alone! How could you succeed where we have failed?"

"To tell you the truth, I haven't figured out exactly how," the concubine admitted, much to Silas' dismay. Even Methos could not speak at this reluctant revelation. But Duncan gave his lover a reassuring smile. "Methos, I think you know that I have to do this."

Cassandra's prophecy came to his mind once more. The whoremaster was right. This was the moment he had been waiting for all his life -- the chance to prove himself worthy of being called a warrior. Despite his apprehensions, how could he deny his lover this.

Nodding to Duncan, Methos reached out and pulled Silas' arm.

"But Brother!" the Horseman argued. "We can't!"

"I throw back to you the words you kept on telling me earlier. Trust him." The ancient granted his beloved a meaningful look. "But if you should need our help, Duncan, we're right here."

"I know," answered the concubine, smiling.

Silas looked at the two men. Although it was against his better judgment, he allowed his Brother to lead him a short distance away.

Duncan was about to turn to face the Odalisk, when he felt warm air being breathed upon his bare leg. With an impatient groan, he looked down to find Moeru peering up at him. There was something inside the colt's mouth which he couldn't make out. Still, it was big enough to fill Moeru's oral cavity that his cheeks were puffed at the corners of his mouth. The colt was happily wagging his tail. Obviously, Moeru was eager to show his "prize" to him. Unfortunately, he had more important things to do.

"Would you please excuse me for a minute?" Duncan graciously asked the Odalisk.

The demon's two heads grinned and said, "Be our guest!"

Duncan picked up the mumbling colt and carried him over to Methos, laying him in the ancient's arms. Tapping the colt's cold nose with his finger, he said, "I'll look at it later, all right, Moeru?"

As the whoremaster went to face his adversary, the two Immortals found themselves staring at the little horse's full mouth. Like a sweet, innocent angel, Moeru blinked up at them.

The concubine heard Silas declare in utter revulsion, "Damn it, runt! Don't tell me you still have that thing?"

"Moeru, you're going to get it from Duncan!" Methos scolded the colt. "You can mark my words on that. Now, give it back."

There were struggles behind him. It was apparent to the whoremaster that the two Immortals were trying to pry open Moeru's mouth and take his "prize" from him.

"It's all right, gentlemen. Leave him alone," Duncan reassured his friends. "Like I said, I'll look at it later."

"Believe me, Little Whore!" Silas retorted. "You don't want to see what this runt has inside his mouth!"

Despite the gravity of the battle before him, the concubine found himself intensely curious about Moeru's so-called "prize."

"Perhaps you would like to look, Little Prince," the Odalisk remarked with a chuckle. "We're willing to wait."

Duncan smiled at the demon. "No, I won't let you wait. For centuries, that's all you've done. Now is the end of all those centuries of loneliness and torment. I'll set both of you free."

"Set us free, you say?" The Odalisk burst into laughter. "But we are free! Free to do whatever we wish! Free to destroy this miserable world and all who live in it, especially you filthy humans!"

"That is not you speaking, but the evil that holds your souls captive!"

"Enough talk! Dare you stand in my way, Little Whore? This time, you shall truly die!"

Duncan leaped out of the way as the demon's eight swords came crashing down on the floor, creating a large crater in the spot he had earlier stood. Seeing the concubine standing near the wall, the Odalisk charged at him. To avoid those sharp swords, Duncan nimbly scaled the wall. When he was a safe distance away from those blades, he did a fluid somersault above the demon's head, landing behind it. Whirling, the Odalisk moved its four right arms, hoping to slash the whoremaster. But Duncan deflected those swipes with his katana.

"Mithras! Devi Mari!" the concubine cried out. "For the love of Heaven, do not let him control you like this!"

The Odalisk, however, howled in fury and attacked. Gritting his teeth, Duncan fought back, his katana clashing with those scimitars. But the demon had eight weapons while the whoremaster only had one. Still, Duncan gave as good as he got, using his special skill in aerial acrobatics to get some leverage over his adversary.

"Duncan!" the whoremaster heard Methos call out his name.

A quick glance in the ancient's direction revealed Methos' Ivanhoe flying toward him.

The two Immortals watched with mouths agape as Duncan did a graceful, upward corkscrewing movement, floating out the Odalisk's reach. He easily caught the Ivanhoe in his left hand. Drifting back down, the concubine crossed his swords like the blades of a pair of scissors before him, blocking the demon's thrust. With a strong side twist of his body, he succeeded in tearing out of the Odalisk's grasp four of its swords. Quickly, Methos and Silas gathered the fallen blades, throwing them away.

Seeing what the two Immortals had done, the demon strode toward them, ready to vent its ire upon them with the four blades it has left. Brave little Moeru placed himself between the Odalisk and the two men, head raised proudly as though he were a valiant war steed. It didn't surprise Duncan to see the demon's features soften. Gently, it nudged the colt aside.

Moeru would've gone back to his defensive posture. However, his ears perked up at Silas' crowing, "Well, look what we have here! Perhaps now I could get rid of this thing!"

As Duncan positioned himself between his beloved pet and the demon, there was the sound of the rapid clip clop of galloping hooves behind him. This was immediately followed by Silas' howl of pain. If the whoremaster had only stolen a glance back, he would have seen Moeru attached to the Horseman's fat behind once more, shaking his head furiously. Something flew out of Silas' hand, which the colt easily caught in his mouth.

At that sight, Methos slapped his hand to his forehead, "Moeru, you are impossible!"

The concubine smiled, seeing the uncharacteristic mirth in the Odalisk's two heads. "You spared Moeru's life and, now, you smile. Hope is not lost for you, my dear friends. Please! I cannot fight this evil alone. For it to be defeated, you must reject it. I beg you! I know you can do it!"

One of the Odalisk's hands flew to the Stone on its chest. "I am past redemption. There is no hope for us."

"As I said, it's the evil inside you that speaks thus. But goodness still exists inside you. I've seen it! You must believe me!"

Crushing pain seized the demon's heart, willing it to kill the young Immortal standing before it. The Odalisk took a step back, its two heads shaking. "We are cursed, Little Prince. Good cannot flourish in a heart that has been corrupted by evil."

"Then I challenge your claim." Duncan let his swords slip out of his hands. "If you are indeed evil, then kill me now! I will not fight you. Pick up your swords and take my head!"

"Duncan, no!" Methos cried in despair. He made to run toward the young man, but Silas held him back. "Duncan, don't do this! If it takes your head, your death...it will be forever!"

"KILL ME, I SAY!" the concubine taunted the demon. "GO AHEAD AND KILL ME NOW!"

At that dare, the Odalisk let out a deafening roar and swung its sword.

"NOOOO!" the ancient screamed. Instinctively, he turned away, burying his face in Silas' broad chest, not wanting to witness the death of his beloved.

But then, the Horseman started shaking his shoulders. "Brother! LOOK!"

Fearfully, Methos raised his head and saw the shock and disbelief written on Silas' face. He then turned to look at his lover and the demon, expecting the worse. He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him.

Duncan stood stock still, tear-filled eyes focused on the Odalisk. The demon HAD swung its sword, but it had checked the fatal move that the blade hovered a mere inch at the side of the concubine's neck.

Realizing what it had almost done, the Odalisk hurled all its swords into the far wall, a clear defiance against the Evil that was forcing it to do his bidding. As it did so, however, pain ripped through its chest that an agonized scream was torn from the demon's throats. This was followed by the audible sound of breaking glass. Duncan was horrified to see that the Methuselah Stone was cracking, and through that crack, the angry red mist he saw in his vision seeped out. As the three Immortals and the colt watched in increasing terror and fascination, the mist began to solidify, assuming a most fiercesome shape.

Huge bat wings unfolded from the fiery red cloud, flapping and flexing, dissipating the mist as it did so. That hideous outline straightened up until the ghoul itself stood at its true height, towering above the Immortals. It twirled the large spear in its hand. Through blazing red eyes, the Lord of Demons glared particularly at the concubine, the ruby on its brow glowing with menacing red light.

 

Outside the walls of Ain Mehira, a red mist billowed out of the sand at the feet of the Odalisk's ghastly defenders, shrouding them in a thick red cloud.

"What is happening?" Khassim frowned, gazing at the unexpected sight before them.

So thick was that cloud that Abdullah couldn't make out anything inside. "Well, whatever it is, this is definitely not good!"

Suddenly, an infernal cheer rose among the demon horde. Slowly, the mist faded away to reveal the terrible presence before them.

The men gaped in horror at the gigantic bat-winged demon that stood at the fore of the hellish army. In its right hand, it carried a huge spear. There wasn't any doubt in their minds that it was this gruesome creature, and not the Odalisk, that raised this battalion of evil.

"This is bad!" Boadim exclaimed, his face deathly pale. "This is very, very bad! I know that...that thing! It's the Demon Lord himself -- AHRIMAN!"

Hearing that name, with the notable exception of the Sultan who sat solemnly on his stallion, a collective gasp rose among the men.

Abdullah shook his head in despair. "How could we fight them? How could we defeat the Lord of Darkness himself?"

The Sultan, who had remained silent as the horrifying scene unfolded, at last spoke up. "We'll never know unless we try." Turning to Rashad, he commanded, "Tell the men to get ready. When they start to move, we shall attack."

As Rashad hurried off to do the Sultan's bidding, Joseph lowered his head in prayer. "Allah, please help us in this terrible battle that is ahead of us! I beg you to preserve our friends who are, right now, fighting against the Ultimate Evil within Ain Mehira!"

 

"AHRIMAN!" Duncan declared in seething fury. "LET MITHRAS AND DEVI MARI GO!"

The Zoroastrian God of Evil pointed its spear at the concubine. "Who do you think you are that you have the gall to order the Lord of Demons around like this?"

Without fear, the whoremaster picked up his katana and tapped the spear aside with it. "You tricked my friends into doing your bidding! To ensure their continued obedience, you yourself infected them with your evil. For centuries, you kept them in your thrall, poisoned them with your lies. The magicians and their gods succeeded in trapping your dark essence within the Methuselah Stone, and restored my friends' consciences to them. This time, I will finish what they started. I will free Mithras and Devi Mari, and I shall send you back to the depths of Hell where you belong!"

Ahriman bellowed with laughter at this strong declaration. "Your words mean nothing to me, Little Whore! I created the Odalisk and I shall unmake it! You want your dear friends freed from eternal torment? Then, let me do it for you!"

Before the concubine could act, Ahriman thrust his clawed left hand right through the Methuselah's Stone. The Odalisk screamed in agony as thick red mist swirled around it, its acid bite burning and melting the demon's skin.

"NO! STOP IT!" Duncan roared in outrage, lunging at the God of Darkness. "DON'T HURT MY FRIENDS!"

Like a fly, Ahriman swatted the young Immortal away with his spear. "WATCH, LITTLE WHORE!" With blood trickling from his lip, the whoremaster was horrified to see the glowing ball that was his friends' souls clutched in Ahriman's hand. "WATCH AS I SNUFF OUT THE LIVES OF YOUR BELOVED MITHRAS AND DEVI MARI!"

"RELEASE THEM, YOU BASTARD!"

Duncan was stunned to see Methos rushing at the Demon Lord, Silas following behind him. Together, they attacked Ahriman with sword and axe, determined to score hits against the God of Evil, who fought back with rapid swipes and twirls of his spear. Although he fought the two Immortals one-handed, the Lord of Darkness soon had the upper hand. Twirling his spear in his hand, he knocked Silas down to the floor with a solid blow to the back.

"SILAS!" Methos cried, seeing his Brother down.

Distracted, the ancient failed to notice the spear's low swing. It hit him in the legs, causing him to fall flat on his back. With red eyes gleaming, Ahriman laid the spear's tip over Methos' throat, nicking the skin that blood was drawn.

"YOU LOSE, HIGHLANDER!" Ahriman exclaimed triumphantly. "YOUR FRIENDS OUTSIDE THE CITY SHALL PERISH AT THE HANDS OF MY ARMY! MITHRAS AND DEVI MARI WILL BURN IN HELL FOR ALL ETERNITY! I WILL HAVE THE HEAD OF YOUR HORSEMAN FRIEND ON MY PLATTER! YOUR RUNT OF A HORSE SHALL ROAST ON A SPIT AND I SHALL PARTAKE OF ITS JUICY FLESH! YOUR LOVER'S SOUL SHALL BE MINE TO TORMENT FOR ALLTIME!"

Before he could complete his wicked intent, there was a red blur, almost like a lightning bolt. Suddenly, the Demon Lord bellowed in pain. Duncan's eyes flew wide at the sight of Moeru dangling from Ahriman's crotch, teeth clamped on the large member. But what startled the whoremaster the most was the name that the God of Darkness had called him.

It was the name given to the brave men of his homeland. The name of fierce warriors in Scotland. A Highlander.

Duncan stood up, katana held tightly in both hands. Proudly, he announced, "I AM DUNCAN MACLEOD OF THE CLAN MACLEOD, AND IT IS YOU WHO SHALL DIE!"

With a roar of rage, Duncan charged at the Ahriman. The God of Darkness raised his spear, intending to drive its point into the fledgling Immortal's belly. The whoremaster, however, suddenly leaped high, stepping on the spear, using it for leverage. Vaulting up into the air, he eased his sword back as he reached maximum height. Like an eagle he plummeted to the Demon Lord, extending his sword at the same time. Ahriman was expecting a slash to his head, that he lifted his spear arm to protect himself. But the concubine had a different target.

Before Ahriman knew what was happening, Duncan's blade severed his hand that held the souls of the Odalisk. Another slash and he broke the Methuselah Stone completely in two. The bright light that shone from the Stone blinded everyone in the room for a moment, but not before Methos saw a bright shaft of white light shoot up through the ceiling and into the sky.

 

It was Joseph who first saw the white light streak across the sky. "Look everyone! What's that?"

"Oh, no!" Khassim groaned, the hope inside his heart diminishing with every minute. "Dear Allah, what now? Have you truly deserted us?"

But then, the light suddenly changed direction, bearing down on them.

"It's heading right toward us!" Boadim cried, his horse rearing up in panic.

"EVERYONE STAND YOUR GROUND!" the Sultan roared, rallying their men despite their imminent doom.

To everyone's shock, the light divided into three glowing balls. Instead of speeding up at the descent, they gradually began to slow down. One of the balls was heading straight for Abdullah Bakkar!"

The Bandit Chief closed his eyes, bracing himself for the collision. Instead, something warm settled before him in his saddle, light seeping through his closed eyelids. To his even greater surprise, he was granted an enthusiastic hug and loving lips kissed his cheek. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring at the grinning face of his son.

"Hello, Papa!" Mikey greeted him cheerfully. "So nice to see you again!"

"Mikael?" Abdullah stammered, tears welling up in his eyes. "Is it really you?"

A pout formed on his son's lips. "Didn't Rashad tell you that we were coming? I swear he gets so wrapped up in his writings sometimes. Papa, you should give him a good knock on the head!"

Rashad himself came up beside his master's stallion. The young man was also crying. "I thought if I told them, they wouldn't believe me."

Shrugging, Mikey remarked, "I suppose you're right. You're excused this time, Rashad."

"You said 'we', son. Who are you with?"

"Look there!" Methos cried, pointing to the second light that landed before Khassim and Joseph.

"Kamir?" Joseph muttered in disbelief.

The Indian bowed to his comrades from the caravan. Granting the proper obeisance to the Sultan and the Emir Boadim al-Deneb, Kamir reassured them, "Do not be afraid. We are here to help you."

Khassim stammered, "But...but now? You and Mikey...you're dead!"

"We're not dead, Khassim. Mikey and I, as well as Caspian if he should decide to cooperate, live in the heart and soul of the Immortal who will save us all. Together, we shall defeat Ahriman."

Before Joseph could inquire as to who this Immortal was, the third ball of light began to descend. Pristine white wings unfurled from it, revealing the Horseman Caspian held in the gentle embrace of the handsome bearer of those lovely wings. The young man was naked, except for the shimmering tartan that was coiled around his body. Daintily, he landed on the sand, his toe first touching the ground. Carefully, he laid Caspian down, who fell to one knee.

There was a tear-filled, yet hopeful, expression on the Horseman's face. "You'll help me find my cock? You promise?"

Smiling, the young man caressed his cheek and nodded. Standing, he looked at the men, his handsome features beaming with warmth, hope and encouragement, causing tears to well up in their eyes.

"DUNCAN!" the Sultan happily called out to the ethereal essence of the concubine.

The whoremaster simply nodded to his friend. He waved to the three Immortals who were now a part of him. "CASPIAN! KAMIR! MIKEY!"

"Oops! Gotta go!" Mikey exclaimed, clambering down from his father's horse. Grinning at Abdullah once more, he said, "Things are going to be fine now, Papa. We'll help you beat them."

"Be careful, my son," mumbled Abdullah, tears of joy falling from his eyes.

"I will," Mikey chimed in, as he hurried toward his companions.

As they watched, the four spirits took their places at the fore of the human army. Kamir, who stood at Mikey's left side, waved his right hand and a scimitar materialized in his grasp. At the right, Caspian performed a similar gesture, his broadsword appearing in his hand. Between them, with great flourish, the Bandit Chief's son waved his hands wildly. When he lowered his hands, he held a huge axe. Standing a few paces before them, Duncan simply opened his right hand, lightning streaking out, forming a katana.

Duncan surveyed the formidable army before them. Noting his intense examination, Ahriman and his demon hordes jeered and taunted the concubine and his men, waving their weapons menacingly in the air.

Raising his sword above his head, Duncan declared for all to hear, "REMEMBER MY WORDS! LET THIS BE THE ONLY THING ON YOUR MINDS! EVIL WILL NEVER TRIUMPH OVER GOOD! THE POWER OF GOOD WILL ALWAYS WIN!"

At that declaration, a great cry rose among the army of humans, their hopes raised by the presence of Allah's angel and his spirit companions in their midst. So great and so loud was their battle cry that their voices could have shattered the walls of Ain Mehira.


	24. Chapter 46

 

**CHAPTER FORTY-SIX**

 

That dazzling flash burned with such intensity that Methos thought he would be struck blind. To his relief, he sensed the light gradually dimming to the point that he could open his eyes at last.

The ancient beamed at the awe-inspiring sight of his lover, with katana in hand, standing above the writhing figure of the God of Evil. Ahriman was clutching the bleeding stump of his left arm. Moeru was cautiously sniffing the still twitching severed hand on the floor. When the hand suddenly turned over, a claw touching his nose, the colt squealed in surprise and swiftly galloped back to his precious "prize", which he had hidden behind a clay jar, much to the chagrin of Silas, who had been searching for it earlier and was rubbing his sore butt.

But what caught Methos' eye were the man and woman lying on the spot where the Odalisk had earlier stood. _My God, he did it!_ he thought happily, gazing at his lover with pride. _He really did it!_

Seeing them as well, a joyful smile lit up the concubine's face. Ignoring Ahriman, who was about to grab his leg, Duncan went to the couple.

Kneeling between them, the whoremaster gently shook the woman's shoulder. "Devi Mari? Devi Mari, wake up!"

There was a slight tremor in those closed eyelids. Then, Devi Mari opened her eyes, her gaze falling upon Duncan's liquid brown orbs. A sob was caught in her throat as she lifted her hand to caress his face.

"Little Prince!" she muttered weakly, tears of happiness streaming from the corners of her eyes. "I never gave up hope! I knew you could save us!"

Then, a dazed voice mumbled, "What...where are we?" Mithras gasped, beholding the beautiful face of his beloved. "Devi Mari? My dearest Devi Mari! Is it really you? Or is this just a dream?"

Duncan took Mithras' and Devi Mari's hands and clasped them together. Laying his own palm over their joined hands, he asked, "Does that feel like a dream to you, Mithras?"

The God of Light started to weep as well. He looked at the young man kneeling above them. "Oh, Little Prince! You are our savior!"

With all his attention focused on the two lovers, the concubine didn't notice that Ahriman was slowly getting to his feet, eyes blazing with hatred toward the whore that defeated him. His hand tightened around his spear.

Before Methos could stop him, Ahriman broke into a run, heading toward the whoremaster, spear poised to kill.

"DUNCAN, LOOK OUT!" the ancient cried in warning.

To Methos' shock, however, the concubine didn't move. He just knelt there, holding the lovers' hands, back turned to the Lord of Darkness that was about to kill him.

 

Ahriman and his demonic horde continued to jeer at the human army, that had now gathered at the edge of the desert in preparation for battle.

"Why do you just stand there, Little Whore?" the Lord of Evil's grand persona taunted the spiritual essence of the concubine. "Are you afraid? You don't stand a chance against us! Surrender now! I promise we will not torture you too much!" Ahriman roared with laughter at that wisecrack.

Mikey grimaced at that remark. He mumbled to the whoremaster, "Someone should shut him up!"

"Believe me, Mikey," Duncan began reassuringly, "he will shut up soon enough." Becoming serious, he told his comrades, "I'll go first."

Kamir and Caspian looked at him as though he were insane.

"You obviously don't know anything about being a warrior, Little Whore," Caspian commented. "You never attack an army alone, unless you are contemplating suicide." Strongly, he stated, "And I don't want to die another permanent death without completing my body parts first."

"I don't think that's wise, Duncan," put in Kamir. "You know how eager Ahriman is to get your soul."

The concubine smiled enigmatically. "That is the one thing he won't be able to do. It's his army that's the greater physical threat."

"But Duncan..."

"You'll see." Winking at his spirit companions, Duncan said in encouragement. "Hold fast, my friends. I'll clear the way for all of you." Before they could argue with him any further, the whoremaster unfurled his wings and flew toward the demon army, heading straight for Ahriman.

Everyone's eyes were wide with alarm, seeing the concubine's spirit essence in a valiant solo charge against that hellish horde.

"DUNCAN!" Abdullah cried out, terrified, as the Demon Lord raised his spear, ready to stab the approaching angel.

A quick thrust. For a moment, they saw the spear's point pierce the whoremaster's body. But then, Duncan continued to press onward, despite that fatal wound, and _passed right throug_h a stunned Ahriman's body! He came to an abrupt halt before the God of Evil's general. Before the general could even raise a cry, the concubine cut off his head. Other ghouls lunged at Duncan, but he quickly felled them and their steeds with his katana.

With an outraged bellow, Ahriman spun on his heels to glower at the angel that was picking off his troops one by one. Furious, he struck at the concubine again and again with his spear. However, his weapon simply passed through the whoremaster's form, his spear connecting instead with Duncan's opponents.

Seeing that the Lord of Darkness was not the threat they believed him to be, a broad smiled formed on Mikey's face. There were similar smiles on the lips of Kamir and Caspian, who was actually chuckling. The Sultan, the Emir, Abdullah, Khassim and Joseph rode up beside the three spirits.

"Shall we attack now, my friends, before Duncan finishes them all for us?" the Sultan inquired, grinning.

Mikey's answer was to raise his battle axe above his head and shout, "CHARGE!"

 

Methos couldn't believe what he was seeing. Even Moeru's jaw had dropped that his "prize" was hanging from his mouth. Despite the astounding sight before him, Silas found himself distracted by the colt's trophy that he attempted to swipe it again. But Moeru's mouth snapped shut around his hand. The ancient grimaced as the Horseman howled in pain.

Ahriman's bellow of frustration was much louder. Repeatedly, he lashed out at the kneeling concubine, but each blow passed through the fledgling Immortal's body as though he were a ghost. Mithras and Devi Mari were just as stunned.

As the spear's point went through his head, Duncan casually stated, "That's not going to work. I already know your weakness. You draw your strength from the negative emotions that fester inside a heart." Solemnly, he intoned, "Without my anger, you have no substance. Without my pride, you have no form. Without my hate, you have no being."

The concubine then stood up and faced the still flailing Demon Lord. He raised his hand and delivered a fierce slap to Ahriman's face, which sent him falling to the floor. As he picked himself up, the God of Darkness saw that Duncan held the broken pieces of the Methuselah Stone in his hands. Behind the concubine, surrounded by a golden aura, was Ahura Mazda.

"Time to say goodbye, Angra Mainyu," Duncan and Ahura Mazda spoke in unison, as the young Immortal held out the Stone.

"NO! NOOOOO!" screamed Ahriman as he began to revert back into a red mist.

 

The same scene was being played out in the field of battle outside the walls of Ain Mehira. As Khassim felled the last ghoul, he turned to find his comrades staring, enrapt, at the terrified Demon Lord, who was shrinking back from the combined might of the concubine and the Supreme Being.

As Ahriman slowly transformed into his red mist form, the Methuselah Stone sucked him in, ranting and raving all the way.

"THIS ISN'T OVER, HIGHLANDER!" roared Ahriman. "I SWEAR I'LL COME BACK FOR YOU!"

When all of the mist had been collected, Duncan closed the two halves of the Stone, the crack sealing by itself. Looking at the swirling mist within, he said, "I'll be waiting!" He then handed the Methuselah Stone to Ahura Mazda, who nodded and disappeared.

Mikey popped up beside Abdullah Bakkar. Flinging his arms around his father's neck, he mumbled, "Goodbye, Papa! I'll see you soon!"

Abdullah embraced his son one last time. "Till we meet again! I love you, Mikey!"

"I love you too, Papa!"

"Mikey's soul is in good hands, Abdullah," said Duncan, smiling in reassurance. He also looked at Kamir and Caspian, who were beaming as well. "No harm shall befall him and the others who shall become a part of me."

The Bandit Chief nodded. "You don't have to tell me, Duncan. From the first time we met, I knew that I could trust you."

"Thank you, my friend." Beaming at his comrades, he announced, "All of you! Please wait for us at the top of the dune. We'll be rejoining you soon."

At these words, one by one, Caspian, Kamir and Mikey, who blew his father one last kiss, merged with the concubine, that only Duncan now stood before them. Granting his friends a salute, the whoremaster then flew off and returned to Ain Mehira.

 

Inside the Throne Room, Methos watched in awe as his lover's angelic persona joined with Duncan's earthly body, but not before granting the ancient the sweetest kiss. When the whoremaster was at last complete, he could no longer hold back the feelings that welled up inside him. The ancient rushed toward the younger man, who lifted both arms in welcome. They embraced each other tightly, exchanging passionate kisses as though they had been deprived of love for centuries. They would've made love right then and there, but then they remembered that they were in the presence of the Supreme Being.

Ahura Mazda was not the least bit offended. Beaming with pride, he looked at the concubine. "You did well, Little Prince. Because of you, I could now take my two children back to Heaven."

Devi Mari stepped forward, smiling gloriously, handing the young man the rag doll she had made for him. Cupping Duncan's face tenderly in her hands, she whispered, "Little Prince, I thank you for all that you've done for us."

Mithras embraced the concubine as well. "Can you forgive us, dearest child, for hurting you? For sating our infernal lust upon you?"

"There is nothing to forgive, my friends," Duncan exclaimed. "I will be eternally grateful for the love and kindness you had showered upon me. I am deeply honored that this Little Whore, with my meager skills, was able to give you pleasure."

"Ah, but you didn't give us pleasure, Little Prince," Mithras and Devi Mari told him. "You taught us how to love again." The two lovers turned to Methos. "We are going back home now. To you we entrust our Little Prince. Please take of him for us."

Methos smiled, pulling the younger man close. "I won't let him out of my sight."

"If my Brother should leave Duncan alone again," Silas chimed in, grinning broadly, tapping the handle of his axe in his hand, "this time, he'll have to face me."

Mithras laughed. "I have no doubt you would. You have changed so much, Horseman. Continue on this path and you will find true happiness."

Silas looked at the concubine with pride. "I have Duncan to thank for that."

Devi Mari's eyes fell upon the little colt, who had crept up before her, happily wagging his tail. Laughing, the Persian Princess went down on her knees and embraced Moeru. Even Mithras fondly ruffled the white tuft of hair on his brow.

"Naughty Moeru! You have been such delightful company!" gushed Devi Mari. "I see that you have gotten...repayment...against he who has tormented you so."

Moeru nodded eagerly. He even opened his mouth to show the Princess his "prize." However, since the colt's back was turned to him, Duncan couldn't see what it was.

Noting the curious glances that the concubine was throwing at his colt, Devi Mari whispered, "If I were you, Moeru, I would think twice about showing your 'trophy' to our Little Prince."

"That's what I've been telling him earlier," Silas declared in disgust. "Damned runt wouldn't part with it!"

Hearing that word "runt", Moeru swivelled his head back and growled at the Horseman.

Mithras gave the colt a bear hug. "Do not be offended by that name! It is not meant as an insult. Besides, as you very well know by now, big things always come in small packages."

At that remark, Moeru snootily cocked his chin up.

Silas couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips. "Wonderful! Now he's going to be more impossible!"

"We must go now, Mithras, Devi Mari," said Ahura Mazda, raising his hands to the lovers. The couple took the proffered hands. Slowly, they began float into the air.

"Farewell, Little Prince," Mithras and Devi Mari waved to the fledgling Immortal who had saved them from eternal torment. "And again, thank you!"

"Goodbye, Mithras, Devi Mari!" Duncan waved back. "I'll never forget you!"

Devi Mari looked at Ahura Mazda for a moment, who nodded as a sign of his permission. "Little Prince, this part of your life is over now. It is time for you to regain that which you have lost."

"What do you mean?" he asked the Persian Princess, pulling away from his lover's embrace to gaze at his departing friends.

"Now is the time for you to return to your homeland."

"But I have no home, no clan. The parents I have known...they are not even true kin."

Mithras declared, "You are the son of the land from whence you came. Even without the link of blood, you are still a child of the Highlands."

A wave of sadness filled Duncan's heart, remembering his old home. "I do not belong there anymore. I have brought shame to my adoptive parents and my clan. They have cast me out. They have called me a whore."

"A whore, they say?" Ahura Mazda's laughter rumbled in his chest, as he and his "children" slowly began to vanish. "Even as a child, you have displayed a selfless heart -- a heart that puts the needs and concerns of others above your own. That is a trait of a TRUE warrior. Dare they call you a 'whore'? Never forget that you have defeated the Lord of Darkness on this day. No warrior could make the claim of facing Satan and survived. Stand tall, Little Prince. You have much to be proud of. Let no man call you 'whore' for you are, indeed, a warrior true." At that last, the Supreme Being disappeared with Mithras and Devi Mari.

Methos looked at the hunched form of his lover with concern. Going toward the whoremaster, he laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Duncan, love? Are you all right?"

Duncan hastily wiped the tears that were forming in his eyes. "I'm fine, Methos. I'm just happy it's all over." Before the ancient could ask another question, the concubine approached his beloved pet, falling to one knee. "All right, Moeru! We've delayed this long enough. What is it that you're going to show me?"

However, as the colt was about to show his "prize" to his beloved Master, the earth began to shake violently. So strong was the tremor that cracks snaked up the walls of the Throne Room.

"I think we'd better get out of here," mused Silas in increasing alarm.


	25. Chapter 47

 

**CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN**

 

The earth beneath the three Immortals' feet violently shook that they had to brace their legs apart to keep their balance. The same could not be said for Moeru. As the shearing forces of the quake slowly but surely wreaked damage upon the Palace architecture, the colt was patiently seated on the floor, still waiting to show his beloved master his "prize", sliding left to right, right to left along with the shaking floor.

"What's happening?" Duncan yelled above the din.

"Now that Ain Mehira has outlived its purpose of keeping within its walls a demon, the Palace is collapsing," Methos shouted back.

"It's time we got out of here, don't you think?" Silas hastily suggested, as a piece of marble fell on his head.

The concubine looked down at the still waiting colt. "Sorry about this, Moeru, but we have to leave this place before we get buried alive."

Moeru snorted in exasperation, wondering if he would ever be able to show Duncan his precious "prize." Before he could insist that it would only take a minute, a beefy arm picked him up. The sudden squeezing of his soft belly caused him to exhale sharply that his "trophy" fell out of his mouth.

As Silas ran out of the Throne Room, with Methos and Duncan behind him, he told the startled colt, "If I knew that this is all it would take to make you get rid of that thing, I should've done it earlier."

But Moeru was determined to not lose his "prize." To the Horseman's shock, the little horse kicked out of his grasp.

"MOERU!" Duncan cried out, horrified, as his beloved pet sped past him, going back to the Throne Room.

"Duncan, wait!" Methos skidded to a dead halt, seeing his lover turn on his heels and race after the colt.

Inside the Throne Room, Moeru nimbly dodged the large chunks of brick and marble that fell from the ceiling, as he searched desperately for his "trophy". Soon enough, he found it, slipping and sliding amongst the debris at the foot of the dais, remarkably still whole and fresh. The colt happily trotted toward it and picked it up, keeping it protected inside his mouth.

But then, there was a loud rumbling above his head. Moeru's eyes were wide as platters, seeing a large panel of the ceiling about to crash down on him. Before the colt could get crushed, Duncan suddenly appeared. With his sword, he slashed the panel into smaller, harmless pieces that missed the little horse entirely.

When he landed, the fuming and extremely worried concubine picked up the colt and crushed him in a bear hug. "Do you have a death wish, Moeru? Damn it, don't you dare do that to me again!" Duncan sobbed. "I could never forgive myself if anything terrible happened to you!"

Guilt pierced Moeru's heart, feeling his beloved master's tears wetting his coat. He nuzzled Duncan's cheek, hoping to reassure him and say that he was so sorry.

Suddenly, there was a deafening roar as the entire floor started to cave in beneath their feet.Already, there were gaping cracks between them and the doors. Worse, the ceiling was on the verge of total collapse.

"DUNCAN!" the concubine heard his lover's voice and, surprisingly, it came from above them.

Training his eyes upward, Duncan saw that Methos was heading toward them. The ancient was using the falling beams and panels as stepping stones to get between the wide cracks in order to reach them. Like a feather, he landed on the spot where the whoremaster and the colt were at.

Rounding on the master and pet, Methos declared, "If you two do this to me again, I swear I'll kill you both!"

"I love you, Methos!" Duncan muttered huskily, a sweet smile curling up the corners of his lips as he gazed at his breathless lover.

The ancient couldn't help but grin. "You can make it up to me later, once we get out of this damned place." He pointed a scolding finger at Moeru. "As for you, I'm going to wallop your butt with the biggest belt I could find."

Moeru batted his eyelashes at Methos, hoping he could get a reprieve. He could already envision a huge leather belt whacking his poor behind.

"Don't give me that innocent look!" the ancient retorted. Facing the concubine once more, he asked, "Can you manage?", gesturing to the falling pieces of the ceiling.

"Try me," Duncan declared confidently.

"Very well! Follow me!"

Swiftly, the two Immortals negotiated the distance from the dais to the doors, leaping over the cracks via the falling panels of the ceiling. They were already near the doors when the piece of brick that the concubine stepped on broke under his feet.

"METHOS!" Duncan screamed as he and Moeru started to plummet into the crack.

Jumping for the edge, Methos grabbed the whoremaster's wrist in time. With a fierce tug, he hauled Duncan and the colt to safety.

"Come on! Let's go!" shouted the ancient. Not wanting to lose his lover again, he tightened his hold on the younger man's wrist, leading him through the crumbling hallways, heading for the stables.

Arriving at last, they found Silas literally tearing his hair out in frustration. All the horses were gone, obviously taken by Kronos' men when they rode out to defend the city. The only horses left were Silas' own steed, Thanatos and Denko. But the Horseman was having trouble getting the three war steeds under control. All three stallions were kicking at two heavy doors that had frozen stuck from the tremors and the furious pounding of hooves. However, they were successful in opening a small crack between the warped doors.

Duncan eyed that crack suspiciously and then looked at the desperate stallions. As he peered closely into that space, he caught movement within.

"The colts!" he exclaimed in sudden realization. "They're trapped inside!"

"This whole place is about to go!" Silas shouted. "We can't save them!"

"We can't leave!" argued Methos. "Our horses are not going to stop until they free them all!"

Moeru's coal black eyes focused on that crack. Swiftly, he leaped out of a shocked Duncan's arms and squeezed through the opening. The little horse grimaced at the sight of the terrified colts huddled in the corner. Putting down his "prize" for a minute, he whinnied excitedly, waving his head towards the crack. Still, the colts would not budge. Trotting toward the frightened younglings, Moeru snapped at them several times with his teeth. That move sent all the colts scurrying out of the hole, one by one.

"Moeru, get out of there!" he heard Duncan's frantic cry. "It's starting to give way!"

The colt made to gallop through the crack. His body was halfway through when he remembered his most precious possession. Moeru quickly snuck back inside before the concubine could grab him. Just as he snatched his "prize", two hands gripped his tail and yanked him out. Moeru blinked at Silas' beet red face.

Seeing the little horse's full mouth, Silas hollered frustratedly, "AAAARGHHHH! We're going to die because you wouldn't let that thing go! I'm going to squeeze your neck until you cough it up!"

Already afraid of the belt whacking that he was sure to get from the ancient, Moeru leaped down from the Horseman's grasp. Waving his head to the younglings, as quick as a tiny bolt of lightning, Moeru led the colts outside the stables.

The three Immortals stared at their animal friend in disbelief. Hearing crashing sounds behind them, Methos hurriedly got on Thanatos and remarked, "We'd better get going ourselves!"

Leapfrogging on his horse, Silas declared, "Aye! But once we catch up with those colts, you can mark my words on it! Moeru is going to take all the credit for saving our lives!"

Duncan was already seated on Denko. "I don't think that Moeru would do that."

"Oh, but you don't know him like I do!" the Horseman said sagely.

At these words, the Immortals galloped out of the stables, following behind Moeru and his band of orphan colts.

 

Through his long scope, the Emir witnessed the destruction of Ain Mehira. All the men stood on top of the dune, staring at the terrible sight that was unfolding before them.

Joseph shook his head. "No! This can't be happening! After all that they've been through, it shouldn't end like this! NOT THIS WAY!"

A frown creased Rashad's brow, noting what looked like a small dust devil near the gates of the crumbling walls of the doomed city. Squinting, he pressed his hands to his brow, shielding his eyes from the gradually brightening glare of the sun to peer at that strange phenomenon. He let out a happy cry, realizing that it was not a freak weather phenomenon at all.

Forgetting himself, the scribe tugged excitedly on the Sultan's trousers. "They're alive! THEY'RE ALIVE!"

Training his own scope on that dust cloud, the Sultan himself laughed, a clear sign of his relief, "They're coming! THEY'RE COMING!"

A great cheer erupted from the men, seeing the three Immortals riding toward them. Proud little Moeru was at the fore, leading the colts of Ain Mehira. Reaching the camp at last, three soldiers hastened to tend to their stallions as the Immortals got down. At once, Abdullah, Khassim, Joseph and Rashad ran towards their friends.

"Thank Allah you're all right!" Rashad exclaimed.

"You scared us half to death!" Joseph declared. "For awhile there, we thought you wouldn't make it!"

"Actually, we almost didn't...thanks to someone I know." Silas cocked a menacing eyebrow up and glared at the preening colt, who chose to ignore the Horseman. After all, this was his shining moment.

Khassim patted Methos' shoulder. "More or less, we had an idea of what was happening to you in there. Duncan's spirit essence...he came here, together with Mikey, Kamir and Caspian. They helped us win the battle."

Methos smiled as he glanced at his lover. "Yes, he saved us all."

Abdullah gripped Duncan's shoulder. "I saw Mikey, you know. He said that he's happy to be with you."

 

"If it wasn't for Mikey," the whoremaster admitted, "I wouldn't have found the courage to rise up and fight back. I hear his voice right now. He says, 'I love you very much, Papa.'"

The Bandit Chief embraced the concubine, weeping. "I love you both!"

At that moment, the Sultan and the Emir made their way through the welcoming throng. Easing away from Abdullah's embrace, Duncan went down on his knees, lowering his gaze in the proper obeisance. But Boadim bade him to stand once more. With tears welling up in his eyes, the Emir hugged the concubine.

"You did very well, Duncan," Boadim announced, cupping the young man's face. "As I knew you would, you exceeded all my expectations. My dear son, you are now a warrior, perhaps THE warrior of all warriors."

A dark red blush went up the concubine's cheeks at that praise. Releasing him, the Emir stepped back to allow the Sultan to approach.

Smiling warmly, the Sultan asked, "How does it feel to be a true warrior, my love?"

Methos heard what the esteemed ruler called the whoremaster. His face darkened with jealousy as he looked at the two men. The ancient had completely forgotten what Duncan had been to the Sultan.

"To be truthful, Ismail," Duncan shyly whispered the Sultan's name. "I don't feel any different. Despite what happened, the things I did, I'm still the same person."

"That is because, right from the very beginning, you already possessed the heart of a warrior. The only thing that was needed was to draw it out." Ismail gazed lovingly at the concubine. "Duncan, I am so proud of you!" Saying this, he embraced Duncan and bestowed a passionate kiss upon his lips.

Methos scowled even darker, seeing his lover return that kiss just as eagerly, his arms wrapping around the Sultan's neck.

Teasingly, Silas inched close to his Brother and muttered in his ear, "Why, Methos? Have you stayed too long under the desert sun that your face is now as dark as a moor's?"

The ancient responded to these inquiries by pushing the Horseman's face away. He was about to stalk toward the two men and break it up when someone else did it for him.

A cold, wet nose nudged Duncan's bare leg, drawing his attention. Looking down, he saw that Moeru was seated before him, wagging his tail.

"Oh, I forgot! You were going to show me your 'prize'," the concubine declared. As he sat down on his haunches before the eager colt, he said, "All right, Moeru! I'm sure we won't have any distractions now. So show me your precious 'prize' that you would risk all our lives just to keep it in your possession."

In unison, Methos and Silas commented, "Duncan, seriously, you are going to regret it!"

But the whoremaster's whole attention was focused on the little horse. With great ceremony, Moeru cocked his chin up and slowly opened his mouth for the grand unveiling.

"YAP! YAP! YAP!"

To everyone's shock, a tiny bundle of joy snatched Moeru's "prize" from inside his mouth. Running a distance away, the stealer of the colt's "trophy" paused, his small tail wagging left and right like a metronome. To Silas' chagrin, the happy animal looked just like the "thing" that was dangling from his mouth.

"What a cute little dog!" exclaimed Duncan in sheer delight. "That's a dachshund, isn't it? Who does it belong to? What's his name?"

The Sultan groaned, an embarrassed blush going up his face. "That's my dog. A gift to me by the English tutor of my children. I was thinking of giving him a name that is appropriate to his status of the dog of the Sultan. But, with his looks and playful, mischievous demeanor, he would probably cause me great shame. So I decided to call him 'Chester.'"

"He is sooo sweet!" the concubine declared, laughing.

Moeru glared at the naughty dog that had stolen his beloved master's attention from him. Worse, his "prize" was hanging from its mouth. He grimaced in disgust, seeing Chester drool over his "trophy". He had to get it back.

Furious, the colt raced after the dachshund. Despite his small size and short stubby legs, Chester was a fast runner. Around and around the camp, the little horse pursued the equally little dog. Moeru was already snorting in rage. Inside his mind, he was envisioning a scene wherein he would catch Chester and grant him a kick with both hind legs in the rump.

Methos was trying to hold back his mirth, his attention focused on the "prize" that was the true object of the chase. Glancing at his amused lover, he couldn't help chuckling, realizing that Duncan still had no idea what it was that the horse and dog were playing with.

Silas nudged the ancient and whispered, "Our Brother's you-know-what is going to be in a terrible shape once those two are through chasing each other."

Sure enough, the colt and the dachshund ended up stopping right before the concubine. The two animals were engaged in a fierce tug-of-war over the "prize."

Duncan frowned as he watched Moeru and Chester battle for the "trophy." To him, it looked like a pale sausage.

Turning to Methos, he asked curiously, "Where did Moeru get a sausage and when did he start eating it?"

The ancient blanched at that innocent query, at a loss on how to answer. Silas, however, burst into laughter, causing Duncan to look at them suspiciously.

Then, Moeru tumbled head over heels on the sand, having snatched his "prize" back from a yapping Chester. The whoremaster peered closely at that "sausage" that dangled between the colt's front teeth.

Suddenly, Caspian's Quickening screeched with head-splitting force inside Duncan's mind. _"THAT'S MY COCK! GIVE ME BACK MY COCK!"_

As everyone looked on, there was a bright flash inside Moeru's mouth, as a tiny bolt of Quickening burst out of that member. The jolt shocked the colt that the white hair at the top of his head stood up like spikes. In surprise and pain, Moeru shook his head, sending his "prize" sailing through the air. All followed the seemingly slow progress of that still fresh body part as it rose high up and slowly made a graceful arch down, down, down..._and landed right smack on the concubine's bare right thigh!_

Duncan's beautiful doe eyes slowly widened in horror and disgust until they were as round as platters. To his even greater shock, a Quickening bolt streaked out of the severed member and entered him right in the region of his crotch, zinging waves of pleasure shooting through his groin. As his face turned deathly pale, in his mind, he could hear Caspian, his voice now at its normal tone, crying out with joy, "MY COCK! MY PRECIOUS COCK! THANK YOU, THANK YOU!"

From somewhere behind him, the whoremaster heard Silas remark to Methos, who was roaring with laughter, "Amazing, Brother! This only confirms what I have suspected for a long time! THAT AN IMMORTAL HAS TWO HEADS!"

The sun shone bright in the heavens as the moon's shadow receded. With Ain Mehira in its death throes, the noise of the city's total destruction was drowned out by the ear-piercing shriek of Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.


	26. Chapter 48

 

**CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT**

 

Methos pressed the tip of his index finger between his lips, trying to hold back the grin that was threatening to form on his lips lest his irate lover vent his anger upon him.

To the amusement of all in the camp, a furious Duncan had brought Moeru and Chester inside the tent, where a tub was waiting, and washed both their mouths with soap and water. In his terror of his master's punishment, the poor colt had ended up developing a bout of loose bowel movement that the concubine was forced to bathe him thoroughly. Chester attempted a quick escape, but Duncan snatched him in time and dunked him right back inside the tub. Afterwards, seeing that he too was a mess, the whoremaster ordered the servants to replace the tub with a new one filled with fresh water and took a bath himself, but not before securing the two chastised animals outside the tent. Much to the ancient's amusement, horse and dachshund sat on their butts, whimpering pitifully, tears of remorse streaming from their eyes. Both their tongues lolled out, red and raw from the concubine's scrubbing.

Methos scratched his head in pity, powerless to help Moeru and Chester. Glancing up at the hot afternoon sun, he decided to offer the two animals a bowl each of water. As a sniffling colt and dog lapped up the water, Methos clucked his tongue and remarked, "Don't tell me I didn't warn you, Moeru! I told you to get rid of it, but you wouldn't listen to me or Silas. You even got poor Chester into this mess."

As he said this, Duncan emerged from the tent. The ancient's mirth vanished at once, his features darkening, seeing the concubine's attire. His young lover was wearing a sheer black caftan of watered silk. The very revealing clothing gave a tantalizing view of the whoremaster's lithe form underneath. Two long slits at the sides bared his graceful legs up to the hip.

"Better close your mouth, Methos, or else a horse fly might make its way through your throat," Duncan advised, a small grin quirking up his lips. As the ancient's mouth snapped shut, the concubine turned to the weeping colt and dog. He ordered sternly, "You two are going to stay here until I say it's all right for you to go inside the tent." Wagging a scolding finger, the whoremaster exclaimed, "Shame on you! A man's penis is not a toy for you to play with! Have you no respect?"

At that moment, there was a disgusted cry. "Ugghhh! Who left this shit lying around? And...what's a dinar doing here?"

From behind the tent, Silas' cheerful face popped up. As he went toward the two Immortals, he was scraping his boot on the sand. In between his left hand fingers, he has holding a soiled, smelly coin.

"Hey, Moeru! Is this yours?" the Horseman queried. Silas didn't notice the scowl on Duncan's face, as those sweet doe eyes focused on the other, shriveled "thing" that was dangling by a leather cord from the index finger of his right hand. "I'll clean this up for you, if you like."

"You'd better," Methos commented, pinching his nose. "It stinks from way over here. On second thought, _you_ stink much worse."

His voice filled with menace, Duncan asked, "Silas? What are you still doing with...THAT?"

Silas raised the severed member to his face. "What? This?" Steam passed out of the concubine's ears as the Horseman twirled it around and around on his finger. "Since Moeru and Chester liked it so much, I thought I'd make two small purses out of it." Silas winked at Moeru, who was grinning and nodding. The colt immediately stopped that enthusiastic motion when Duncan's head whipped back to look at him. "We could put your two dinars inside."

"YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!" the whoremaster declared in righteous indignation.

Sure enough, Duncan heard Caspian's Quickening say inside his head, "I want my cock to have a decent burial!" He didn't realize that he had spoken the dead Horseman's wish out loud.

"Bury a man's cock?" Silas blurted out. Already, he was close to bursting into laughter. "If you like, we could even give it full military honors!"

"Great idea!" Methos remarked sarcastically. "Perhaps we could all pull out our 'weapons' and shoot."

Duncan gave the ancient a baleful glare. "You don't have to be crass, Methos. Listen, Silas. Just do what Caspian says. Since his body is buried under all that rubble in Ain Mehira, his missing body part should be laid to rest as well."

"Oh, I don't know," the Horseman looked thoughtfully at the member in his hand. "I think it would make a nifty purse."

Swords flashed from the concubine's eyes. Taken aback by the ferocity in Duncan's features, Silas hastily stammered, "All right, all right! I'll bury it!", and walked away, giving the whoremaster quick back glances as he did so.

Duncan then turned to the laughing ancient. "Do you think this is amusing, Methos?"

"I don't know about Silas, but... Duncan, Moeru and Chester are animals, you know, and babies to boot," Methos said simply. "What's wrong about them having a little fun now and then?"

"And this is funny?" the whoremaster nodded, a pout on his full lips. "Very well then! There will be no playtime for you too!"

"Now wait just a God damned minute! Why should I be punished along with these two? It's not my fault that Caspian was a bastard and that he nearly beat Moeru to death. In my opinion, Caspian got what he deserved. As for Moeru, he earned that sausage PERIOD!"

"Being a Horseman, that's all you know. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. I can't expect you or Moeru to understand, but seeking out revenge is not the answer." The concubine's handsome features softened. "That's what I've learned -- during our journey and right here in Ain Mehira with Devi Mari and Mithras. You lose when you seek vengeance. You lose your humanity, all sense of common decency, and even your capacity to love and forgive."

Slowly, the whoremaster closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, Methos saw that Duncan's eyes had changed into a different color, the color of Caspian's eyes.

Facing the weeping colt and bowing to him, through Duncan's lips, Caspian said sincerely, "Forgive me, little one, for having hurt you so many times."

Methos cringed back in terror, realizing that the man standing before him now was indeed the Horseman who had tortured him. Sensing the colt's fright, Chester stood before him, growling at the "stranger." Moeru was about to bolt, but warm arms enfolded both his and the dachshund's necks.

"Don't be afraid, Moeru," the concubine whispered soothingly. "Caspian truly meant what he said. Perhaps, with time, you could be able to forgive him."

The colt blinked up at Duncan. Unsure as to how he should respond, Moeru chose to remain silent. As if to reassure him, Chester laid a slobbering lick on the little horse's face. Moeru shuddered in disgust and bared his front teeth at the happy dachshund, whose long tongue dangled from a corner of his mouth.

Smiling, the concubine patted their heads. "Be good, you two. I'll make certain that the servants bring you something delicious to eat."

Hearing this, the miniature horse and the dachshund nodded eagerly to him.

Before Duncan could leave, Methos' hand suddenly closed around his arm. "Where are you going? Do you think me a fool that I would let you waltz around camp dressed in this poor excuse of a nightgown!"

"Methos, this is not a nightgown," the whoremaster answered as patiently as he could. However, seeing the dark scowl on his lover's face. He breathed out an exasperated sigh. "Ismail invited me to his tent to spend some time with him."

"For what? A whoring session?" Those hurtful words just flew out of his mouth.

Stars twinkled before the Horseman's eyes as a ringing slap fell upon his cheek.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" the concubine demanded, his right hand clenched in a fist at his side. "Why are you being so mean to me all of a sudden?"

"After all that we've been through," the ancient began bitterly, "I thought you have, at last, realized your dream. That you already know who you truly are. And yet, here you are, dressed in clothes that would make any human being lust over you. You're supposed to be a warrior, Duncan. But here you are, still acting like a strumpet."

"That's jealousy talking. Not you."

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't be jealous. You're going to the Sultan's bed, and lord knows who else's."

"Abdullah Bakkar, of course. Your Brother Silas. And the Emir, although Boadim al-Deneb will definitely not bed me. He always treated me like a son."

"Why are you doing this?" Methos demanded, not hiding the despair in his voice. "Is this your way of getting back at me? For the things I did to you in the past?"

"The things that happened in the past belong in the past. You know that I have forgiven you. Why am I doing this, you ask? Why am I going back to my 'whoring ways'? That's just it, Methos. I'm NOT a whore anymore. I am free to do whatever I want. And what I want to do is offer my gratitude to the men who helped me become this person I am now, through the...special skills...that I possess. It'll be a joining of a warrior with another warrior."

"Duncan, I don't want you to do this. You don't know how much it tears at my heart to see you in bed with another. What if I forbid you to go?"

"I think you know me better than that."

The ancient's jaw hardened at that answer. "If you go to the bed of any man this night, I do not want you to return to our tent. You will not be welcome."

Duncan looked at his lover in shocked silence. His handsome face slowly mirrored his disappointment. "Don't wait for me then, Methos. I won't be coming to you."

"I have no intention of waiting." The bitterness was very obvious in Methos' words. Not wanting to say anymore, he turned his back to the younger man.

At first, seeing the angry, solid back of the ancient gave the concubine cause to hesitate. He had actually raised his hand, wanting to touch him and soothe the hurt feelings inside his heart.

With a resigned shrug, however, Duncan whispered, "I thought you would understand how I feel. I guess I was wrong." He then turned around and quietly walked away.

Moeru and Chester gazed up at the crystal tears that fell from Methos' eyes. Before the colt could nudge the Immortal's leg, probably noticing the rapt stares of the two animals, Methos swiped a furious hand over his eyes and stormed inside the tent.

For a moment, horse and dog sat in silence, both not knowing what to do. Then, Moeru's face brightened as an idea came to him, completely forgetting his young Master's earlier warning to be on his best behavior. Slowly, he faced the dachshund...who promptly granted him another slobbering lick. Moeru was about to grab that long tongue between his teeth, but then, he saw that rather dopey expression on Chester's face. Yes, the colt thought. A perfect accomplice to his plan. Moeru grinned broadly at the dachshund. Chester simply grinned back, not a care in the world, a willing and equally mischievous ally to the naughty colt.

 

"Come in! Come in, my son!"

Duncan paused outside the Sultan's tent, recognizing that voice as that of the Emir Boadim al-Deneb's. Now, he regretted the clothes he had chosen to wear. Nevertheless, the concubine breathed in deeply and, pushing back the flap, entered the tent.

The whoremaster blushed hotly, seeing Boadim's stunned, slack-jawed expression. His dark, disapproving eyes perused the young man's revealing attire from head to toe. Ismail, on the other, had a look of mild amusement on his face. Still, he nodded appreciatively at the physical beauty of the concubine. Embarrassment getting the better of him, Duncan's hands drifted down to the region of his loins to cover them with his palms.

"Don't just stand there, Little Prince," the Sultan teased Duncan, a twinkle in his black eyes. "Come sit beside us! We were just about to have some tea."

Bowing to the two monarchs, Duncan walked towards the serving position behind the low table where the tea set was laid. To his surprise, Boadim reached for his wrist.

"Not this time, Duncan," the Emir smiled reassuring, as he urged the young man to sit between him and Ismail, although he nudged the concubine a bit closer to him than to the Sultan. "Someone else will serve us."

From within the inner chamber, a smiling Tamar emerged. With a wink at the surprised concubine, she poured tea for the three men and served the steaming cups to them.

"Now," Ismail said excitedly, "how about telling us what happened at Ain Mehira? I've been dying to hear the entire story from your lips."

"There's not much to tell actually," Duncan sheepishly answered.

"Ah, Little Prince! Up to now, you are still your very modest self," Boadim commented with great fondness. "But please indulge us with your tale. We're all friends here, and I'm sure Tamar would like to hear your story as well. Am I right, Tamar?"

"Oh yes, my Lord!" Tamar exclaimed, with a gleeful clap of her hands. "I would like to hear it. Afterwards, with your permission, I'll tell Liamina and Zumillah your story."

The concubine's face brightened, hearing the name of the baby he had nursed from his own breast. Feeling the tension ease out of him, Duncan narrated to his friends everything that had taken place in Ain Mehira -- from the sacrifice, to the Methuselah Stone's revelation, to his reawakening and his subsequent battles with the Odalisk and Ahriman, and the freeing of the souls of Mithras and Devi Mari. He concluded his story with their narrow escape from the crumbling city.

Absorbed as he was in his narrative, Duncan started, as if waking from a dream, to find that night had fallen. Without his knowing it, he had even partaken of the feast that was laid before him. Having finished her duties, Tamar was already on her feet, obviously dismissed by the Emir, the other servants exiting from the tent with the plates.

With tea tray in her hands, Tamar bowed graciously to the whoremaster. "Thank you, young Master, for a most wondrous story!" At these words, she left the three men alone.

There was an undignified snort from Ismail. "I can't believe that you nearly perished in Ain Mehira because of your beloved pet colt. Still, it was a heroic gesture, rescuing the other younglings the way he had. But then..." The Sultan shook his head. "Your Moeru reminds me so much of my dachshund, Chester. They have the same temperament and I'm sure they'll get along quite well together. Perhaps I should give Chester to you."

Duncan quickly shook his hand, laughing. "Oh, no! Moeru's a handful as he is! I don't know what I'm going to do with a dog!"

"It's so nice to hear you laughing for a change, Little Prince. There was a time when it was difficult to elicit even a soft giggle from you," the Emir remarked, smiling. As the concubine blushed, Boadim inquired, "Do you know that you were mesmerized by your own story?"

"Up to now, I couldn't believe that it happened," said Duncan in quiet awe. "It's been just like one grand dream."

"Dream or not, you are awake now and your life has changed in the course of a day. What are you planning to do?"

The whoremaster shrugged. "To be truthful, I don't know. Twenty-five years of life, I lived as a whore. During this same period, with your encouragement and that of so many others, I've struggled to learn the skills necessary to free myself from bondage and fulfill my destiny of becoming a warrior. But now that it has happened, now that I am truly free, I don't know what to do. For the first time, I am afraid, so afraid to even make that first step."

"But you already have taken that great step, my son. No warrior could claim of having battled and triumphed over the Demon Lord himself."

"You know that I am not the type of man to boast."

"Perhaps I know where your true problem lies," Ismail put in. "You have a preconceived notion of what a warrior should be. In your mind, they're just like the courageous barbarians of your homeland and the soldiers, bandits you have encountered in this region. You certainly did not defeat Ahriman in the conventional sense. But make no mistake, Duncan. A warrior does not have to fight to prove himself to be so. More often than not, a worth of a true warrior is measured by his ability to discern what is the best solution to a problem, and it does not necessarily have to be a resolution through violence."

"It's very easy for both of you to say that because you have experience."

A smile curled up the corners of Boadim's lips, his fingers twiddling the gray strands of his beard. "But you have a warrior's heart. A warrior's nobility lies in the essence of his heart and soul. Experience merely hones it and sways it to go to one of two paths -- good or evil. If you will not allow your soul to be corrupted by the evil, I have no doubt that you will prevail over all your adversaries."

Duncan fell silent, pondering their words. He quietly revealed, "Mithras and Devi Mari told me that it was time for me to return home."

"If that is their advice," the Emir began with a nod, "then you must heed their advice."

Boadim did not notice the disapproving glare from the Sultan's eyes.

Ismail hastily remarked, "But you don't have to leave immediately. Why don't you think it over? After all..." The Sultan lowered his gaze to hide the blush on his cheeks. "...El Djezair is your home too."

The Emir grimaced, giving the flustered monarch a side glance. With a gentle pat of the whoremaster's hand, he stood up. "Yes, that is an excellent suggestion. Think it over carefully. I know your main concern is your father. However, my son, the decision is yours to make." Boadim stared pointedly at Ismail. "Do not let others dissuade you from taking the right path." Bending down, he cupped the concubine's face and kissed him on the brow. "I have faith in you, Duncan." As he said this, the Emir casually strolled outside.

Pouting, the Sultan muttered, "That old man never ceases to infuriate me."

Duncan looked thoughtfully at the ruler of El Djezair. "If Master Boadim's words are any indication, I'd say that you have a different proposition in mind."

In reply, Ismail clasped both of the concubine's hands tenderly. "You don't have to go back to Scotland. As I said, El Djezair is also your home. I...I am asking you, Little Prince, to marry me."

"And to be what?" Duncan laughed nervously. "Wife No. 48?"

"No, Duncan. I want you to rule El Djezair at my side. My other wives and concubines...they will not object because they love and respect you, as I do. In fact, it was they who suggested it. Before Khassim arrived with Boadim, I had already made up my mind to steal you away from the Emir Zaid al-Bahir."

The whoremaster was caught speechless by the sincerity in the Sultan's proposal. With a sigh, he said hesitantly, "Master Boadim said that the decision is mine to make." He then reversed the position of their hands so that he was now holding the Sultan's trembling fingers. "Forgive me, Ismail. Your offer is very tempting, but I'm afraid I cannot marry you."

It seemed Ismail was expecting that answer. Although his heart was filled with deepest regret, he forced a smile from his lips and nodded. "Your heart belongs to someone else."

"Yes," Duncan admitted. "I only came because I wanted to say goodbye and give you pleasure one last time."

"Does he know that you came to me?"

"Yes."

"Does he approve?"

No reply. Only reluctant silence.

"Then I will not ask you to do this, even if it is the last time. I loved you for your kind and generous heart, Little Prince, not your beguiling beauty. But I do have a final request."

"Tell me and I shall give it to you," the concubine said firmly.

"A kiss, Little Prince." Reaching out, Ismail held the whoremaster's face in his hands. His eyelids fluttering shut, he slowly leaned forward, the distance between their faces closing. "Just one kiss."

Lost in the heat of the moment, neither of the two men noticed the tiny brown body that was inching its way in the space between them. Before they could kiss, their lips made contact with soft fur. They pulled away abruptly, eyes snapping open to find a shocked Chester between them.

Obviously liking the concubine's kiss more, the dachshund licked Duncan's face from chin to forehead, and collapsed onto the pillow with four feet in the air, rocking from side to side and howling in delight at the sweet kiss that was given him.

As the whoremaster wiped away the drool, he heard a protesting whinny. Sure enough, a furious Moeru's shaking head hung through the open flap. The colt was chattering his teeth menacingly at the dog, his piercing eyes screaming, "You have no right, you mangy mutt! My Master only kisses me!"

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING HERE?" Duncan demanded to the colt and dachshund.

Hearing the fury in the concubine's voice, Moeru and Chester stopped at once, their eyes as round as saucers. They first looked at the menacing scowl on Duncan's face and then stared at each other. Realizing that they had been caught, the little horse's head backed up from the opening. Before Ismail could snatch his dog, Chester darted towards the exit and nimbly jumped through.

The Sultan shook his head. "Why do I get the feeling that even if I had taken you up on your enticing offer of a little tryst this eve, we wouldn't be able to make love anyway?"

Duncan angrily stood up. "Those two are going to get a spanking from me!"

He was about to leave, but Ismail took his hand. There was a smile on the Sultan's lips. "In case you need me, or if ever you should change your mind, I'll be here waiting. I love you, Duncan."

The concubine gazed into those dark eyes, filled with pain and longing for him. Dropping to his knees, he gave Ismail a passionate kiss, pouring out all his love and gratitude.

As he eased away, Duncan smiled, caressing the Sultan's cheek. "And I love you, Ismail. I just wish I could love you the way you want me to. But have no doubt of it, I _do_ love you." With a bow of obeisance, he hurried outside the tent.

Duncan angrily tromped through the camp in search of Moeru and Chester, oblivious to the amused, but lustful, stares the men were giving him. As he neared one tent, his attention was called by the cry of a baby within. His heart gave a lurch, recognizing that cry as Zumillah's.

Going inside, sure enough, the baby was lying on a plush rug with thick blankets, surrounded by large, thick pillows.

Happy to see the child again, Duncan eagerly took Zumillah in his arms, cooing, "Hello, Zumi! Why are you crying? My little angel's not wet, so probably you're hungry. But where's your Mama, child?"

Zumillah stared in awe at the handsome young man who was carrying her. Something inside the baby's heart recognized the concubine immediately. Bursting into delighted giggles, Zumillah twisted her body to the side and pressed her face to his chest.

Duncan groaned, feeling tiny lips nipping at his breast. "Oh, all right!" he declared in surrender, yanking his left shoulder down his arm. "I'll make an exception this time since Liamina isn't here." As he positioned the child's face to his nipple, Zumillah smacked her lips on the tit and began to feed ravenously on him. Grinning, he pinched the baby's nose lightly. "Zumi? You're just as bad as Moeru, you know that? But at least you're human!"

With all his attention focused on the infant he was rocking in his arms, Duncan at first didn't hear the soft whispers emanating from the sleeping chamber of the tent. But then, there was a low moan, almost like a throaty rumble, followed by ragged panting. Curiosity getting the better of him, the whoremaster went towards the opening, pushing the flap aside. Duncan's jaw dropped in shock at the sight that greeted him.

Abdullah Bakkar was lost in the throes of passion and ecstasy, moaning and groaning as though in terrible pain. The Bandit Chief was lying flat on his back, hands gripping a slender waist, his hips thrusting hard and fast into the voluptuous body of Liamina, who was straddling him. Like a wanton, Liamina shook her head that her hair flew in deshabille, her breasts bouncing as she rode Abdullah. Both were crying out in wild abandon.

Suddenly, Mikey's Quickening rushed up from the core of the whoremaster's being like a geyser, taking control of his body.

"PAPA! HOW COULD YOU!" Mikey exclaimed in outrage, the words flying out of the concubine's mouth.

That furious cry surprised the Bandit Chief and Liamina. Swiftly, they parted, yanking the blankets over their naked forms. Both stared wide-eyed at Duncan, speechless.

Mikey, who was still in control, had more things to say. "Who is this woman, Papa? How dare you make love to her? To think Duncan came here because he wanted to be with you, because you might want him. You're bad, Papa! I'm going to tell Moeru to bite your butt! I'm going to tell my Mama!"

"Son, please!" Abdullah raised a pleading hand. "Let me explain!"

Duncan willed Mikey's Quickening to quiet down. "I'm so sorry for the intrusion," he apologized profuse. "It's just that I...I mean we...we were not expecting this. I heard Zumillah crying and..." Duncan suddenly realized that the baby was still suckling on his breast. Noticing the young man's discomfiture, Liamina stood up and took Zumillah from. At once, the baby started to cry, her little hands raised to her surrogate "mother."

Not knowing what else to say, Duncan blurted out, "What in heaven's name is going on here!"

Instead of answering, the Bandit Chief turned to Liamina. "Would you leave us alone for awhile, my dear?"

There was a gentle smile of understanding on Liamina's face as she nodded. Patting the whoremaster's arm, she whispered, "After hearing him, I hope you would approve." She then went into the outer chamber, closing the flap behind her.

For a long moment, there was silence between the two men.

"I hope you do not intend to do her harm, my Lord," Duncan quietly put in.

"Now why would I do that?" Abdullah asked in turn, surprised by this comment. Then, he remembered the cruel things that he had done to the concubine in the past. Nodding thoughtfully, he said, "Yes, you're right. I understand your concern."

Duncan bit down on his lower lip in guilt. "I'm sorry. It was mean of me to say that."

"You are justified in saying it. I've come to deeply regret the things I did to you. With everything that has happened, I never had the chance to ask for your forgiveness, and to thank you for avenging my son's death."

"It's my fault that Mikey's dead. I did what I had to do. As for forgiveness..." Duncan sat down before the Bandit Chief. "I think you already know, that in my heart, I have forgiven you. Mikey has even forgiven the man who had killed him."

"I know. Mikey fought bravely alongside you, Kamir and that other warrior. I am so proud of my son." Abdullah gazed into the concubine's coffee brown eyes. "I believe I know why you came here."

"I just thought you might need some...companionship...tonight."

Abdullah looked Duncan approvingly from head to toe. "So that explains your alluring attire this evening."

A red flush on the whoremaster's cheeks. Embarrassed, he quickly lowered his eyes.

"You're leaving us, aren't you, Duncan."

The concubine nodded. "Mithras and Devi Mari and Ahura Mazda himself told me that I should return home to Scotland. You've meant so much to me, my Lord. I cannot leave without giving you something to remember me by."

Duncan suddenly found himself enfolded in Abdullah's warm embrace. He could feel the older man's tears of joy dripping on his shoulder.

"Oh but you have, Duncan! You have!" the Bandit Chief sobbed. "For years, I've been wallowing in grief, but you thought me how to live and love again. In you, I've seen the one man who could love my beloved son, perhaps even more than I. I have blamed myself for what happened to Mikey. But now I see that he is in the best place of all -- the Heaven of your kind heart. I have so much to thank you for everything that you have done for me. How could I dare ask you for more?"

"All you have to do is ask. It makes me happy to soothe your aching heart whenever we make love. I would like to do so again tonight with you."

Surprisingly, Abdullah shook his head. "This time, I have to decline your offer. Duncan, do not take this as a sign of my rejection. In truth, I still want you. Yes, I still love you, but not like in the past."

Realization dawned on the concubine's face. "You've found someone else to love. It's Liamina, isn't it."

"Yes. I admired her bravery and determination to return to Ain Mehira to save you. It took a lot of convincing on our parts to get her to stay in this camp." Abashed, the Bandit Chief admitted, "When I took her hand, I felt this spark. I only felt this way toward Merida and you. I was surprised that Liamina had felt the same. She agreed to be my wife."

A joyous cry escaped Duncan's lips as he hugged Abdullah. "Oh, I am so happy for you! I didn't want to leave you, knowing that you would be alone. That's the real reason why I came. If you needed me, I would be happy to stay with you. But I see that you have found someone to love at last. You couldn't have a chosen a wonderful woman to marry."

"I'm moving on with my life, Duncan. Now it's your turn to pick up where you left off, and Mikey is going to be with you all the way."

Mikey's tears welled up in the whoremaster's eyes, as he spoke once more, "I won't leave him alone, Papa. I'll always be here to protect him in anyway I can. Be happy with Liamina, Papa. We'll see each other again someday."

Abdullah laughed as wiped away the tears of the younger man with his palms. "That's another reason why I declined your offer. I couldn't make love to you with my son inside you. It wouldn't be right." Winking, he gestured toward the tent opening. "Besides, I don't think those two would approve."

Whirling, Duncan groaned, seeing Moeru and Chester sitting side by side. The colt and the dog had their heads raised, swaying from side to side, their teeth rattling like a rattlesnake's tail. It was a clear sign that the two animals would not hesitate to cause bodily harm if the Bandit Chief dared to bed him. Before the concubine could say a single word, Moeru and Chester made their quick escape.

Shaking his head, Duncan slapped his hand to his brow in exasperation. "Those two interfered when I was in Ismail's tent."

"Speaking of Ismail," Abdullah grinned broadly, "do you know that the lands of the Tademait Plateau actually belonged to him? For my assistance, he gave full ownership to me. I am now the Emir Abdullah Bakkar."

"Don't let the title get to your head, my Lord." Duncan leaned embraced the Bandit Chief and kissed him tenderly. "May Allah always bless you, Abdullah Bakkar."

"May He always watch over you and protect you as well, Duncan MacLeod. You and my son," Abdullah whispered. Saying this, he kissed the young man's fingertips. The Bandit Chief smiled as he watched Duncan leave his tent and his life forever.


	27. Chapter 49

 

**CHAPTER FORTY-NINE**

 

"Moeru! Chester! Come back here, you two!" Duncan roared as he raced through the camp in hot pursuit of the errant colt and the dachshund. "I have a bone to pick with you!"

Hearing that word "bone", Chester skidded to a halt and turned around, tongue hanging out of his mouth. His mind was filled with a tantalizing vision of a verdant field with abundant bones growing out of the ground. He could already imagine himself leaping through that field, picking those tasty, crunchy chewables with Moeru's handsome Master at his side.

Moeru stopped at once, seeing the dachshund just sitting there, waiting for the approach of the angry human thundering his way, not knowing the terrible punishment that was in store for him. Before the whoremaster could grab the dog, the colt snatched Chester's tail between his teeth and flipped him over the air and onto his back. Hoping to make a quick escape, Moeru darted in between a surprised Khassim and Joseph, who, along with Rashad, had been searching all over the camp for the concubine. Seeing how exhausted the colt and the dachshund were, the three men took pity on them and blocked Duncan's path.

"They're getting away!" Duncan complained like a petulant child, as he peered above the men's heads. To his dismay, he saw his quarry disappear behind a tent.

"And you are becoming a delicious spectacle to everyone in this camp," Joseph remarked disapprovingly. "Your poor excuse of a caftan is practically your second skin."

"Not that anyone's complaining, mind you. Except for the Emir Boadim al-Deneb and..." Rashad interrupted good-naturedly, only to shut up like a clam when the elder Watcher glared at him.

Khassim threw a loose robe over the concubine's near naked form. "My Master Boadim told me to put this on you. Now, perhaps you could tell us what you've been up to."

Grudgingly allowing the three men to lead him toward a small campfire, Duncan answered, " I just wanted to say goodbye to my friends...and lovers. I wanted to give them something special." His lower lip jutted out in a pout. "But Moeru and Chester wouldn't stop poking their noses into my affairs."

"If you ask me," Joseph began, "those two are doing the right thing. I'm amazed that Moeru was able to get Chester to cooperate with him. I mean, they just met."

"Believe me, it's probably not that big an effort on his part," said Khassim wryly. "According to the way that Boadim describes him, the Sultan's dog is so stupid that he would do anything you tell him to do, thinking it's all just a game."

Rashad shook his head. "I don't think so. I've been observing Chester and he's a lot smarter than people give him credit for. He and Moeru are the perfect partners, both sharing the same penchant for mischief. But they both have loving hearts as well. As Joseph said, Duncan, they are doing this for your benefit."

The concubine let out a snort. "It's wasted effort on their part. No one wants me...in that way, I mean. I'm beginning to feel insulted. I'll probably have better luck with Silas."

Khassim's right eyebrow formed a perfect arch. "Why are you so determined to have someone bed you?"

"And what does Methos have to say about this?" Joseph inquired.

At these queries, Duncan fell silent.

"Speaking of Methos..." With his eyes, Rashad quickly took stock of their surroundings. "I haven't seen the Old One since this afternoon."

The elder Watcher looked at the quiet young Immortal with suspicion. "Duncan, did something happen between you and Methos again?"

"There is always something happening between me and Methos," the concubine answered, the dismay obvious in his words.

"Now you're thinking of getting back at him by going to bed with someone else." The moor nodded in understanding. "Don't you know that by doing this, you hurt yourself more than him? Is your stubborn pride worth more than losing the one you truly love?"

"Methos doesn't understand why I have to do this. He refused to listen. Ismail, Abdullah Bakkar, Silas... Despite knowing what I am, they never treated me like a whore." Seeing the knowing the glances of the three men, Duncan amended, "No. Perhaps at first they had, but in the end, these men loved me, encouraged me to strive for my dream. They gave me hope. This is the last time that I shall be with them. I wanted to show them how grateful I am for everything that they have done for me."

"But they refused you," Joseph stated bluntly.

"Not...exactly. As I said, I haven't talked to Silas yet. Abdullah is marrying Liamina. Although he admitted that he still loved me, he said that he couldn't take me up on my offer because Mikey is now inside me. As for the Sultan, he asked me to marry him."

"And what was your answer?" Rashad queried inquisitively.

The whoremaster hesitated for a moment. "I said I couldn't marry him, but I still offered to...you know. Ismail refused my offer."

Khassim slowly understood what had transpired between the Sultan and the concubine. "The Sultan asked you if you were in love with someone else, didn't he. Abdullah knows that your heart cries for another. This is the real reason why they refused to make love to you. They know that it is Methos whom you truly care for."

"Duncan, the Sultan and Abdullah are honorable men," Joseph explained patiently. "They would not take advantage of your anger toward your lover to bed you. I'm sure that Silas will refuse you as well."

"And if he doesn't refuse," began Rashad, "you have two little guardians who will make certain that no bedding will take place." He then made a sweeping gesture with his hand, and pointed a finger to where Moeru and Chester stood. The two animals were nodding in firm agreement to what the young Watcher had said.

Anger rose inside the whoremaster's heart. Standing in a huff, he retorted, "We shall see about that." Duncan glared at the colt and the dachshund. "I will not have you two interfere. Do so again and I swear you shall regret it."

Before the concubine could leave, Joseph's words stopped him. "Are you going to leave us, Duncan, with anger in your heart for the things we said to you?"

At first, Duncan couldn't speak, as shame filled his entire being. He then faced the three men, bowing to them in sincere apology.

"Please forgive me for my rudeness," he said in sorrow. "You are my dearest friends. I should be saying how much your kindness and your wisdom meant to me. That I am very thankful to you for taking care of me during my journey. I shouldn't have turned my anger on you. I'm so sorry."

The moor stood up and held the young Immortal's shoulders. "Duncan, forgive us as well if we seem to speak out of turn. We only have your best interests at heart. Same also for Moeru and Chester, and also the Sultan, my Master Boadim and Abdullah Bakkar."

"Why don't you look at it this way?" Joseph suggested. "You have now proven yourself to be a great warrior to us all. You've freed the Odalisk from eternal torment and you have defeated Ahriman. And yet now, you are taking a step back to the whore you once were. Methos does not want you to do this because you are a different man now -- not just a warrior but an Immortal as well. Offering your body...this is not the way to show your love and respect to the men who have helped you. This is not the way of a warrior."

"I am not big with words, Duncan," Rashad began, "but I will try to make it simple. We are all in awe of you and your great accomplishments this day. Speaking for my Master Abdullah, it wouldn't be right for men such as we to take advantage of your emotional turmoil to bring you back to your lowly state as a whore. You have done so much for all of us. That is thanks enough for the kindness that we have showered upon you. In fact, the greater debt now falls on our shoulders. And what better way to ensure you remain a warrior but by refusing the one thing, the one special skill that would cause doubt to rise inside your heart and lead you back to the man you were before."

The elder Watcher looked at his subordinate in surprise. "And you said you weren't big on words, Rashad."

"I wish I could say that I understand everything that you have just told me," said Duncan honestly. "But I will think it over. Perhaps...I also need to talk about this with Master Silas."

"Just to talk, Duncan," the moor told him firmly. "No bedding!"

The concubine shrugged and smiled wearily. "I wish I could promise that."

"Then think about Methos and what this would do to him." Joseph breathed in deeply. "Methos is not a very complicated man, despite his being the world's oldest living Immortal. The swords of the past are always hanging over your heads. If you take each one away and sheathe them, you'll see that it isn't hard to love a 5,000-year old Immortal."

Duncan didn't answer. Instead, he gave them that sad little smile once more and walked away. Lost in thought, he didn't notice that Moeru and Chester were quietly trotting a few paces behind him.

It didn't take long for the whoremaster to find Silas. The Horseman was seated beside a tiny cart he had just finished. By the light of a lamp, Silas was industriously sewing something that Duncan couldn't make out at first. With the thought of giving the Horseman pleasure still on his mind, the concubine peeled off his robe and let it pool at his ankles.

At that moment, Silas looked up, a happy smile forming on his face, as he declared, "Look who decided to drop in! Come here! I have a surprise for you!" He even waved what he held in his hands, a pleasant jingling coming from it.

Before Duncan could make a single, sultry step forward, Moeru and Chester sped past him, hurrying toward the jolly Horseman. A dark frown creased the concubine's brow as Silas cheerfully tied the things he had made around the necks of the colt and dachshund.

"There you go!" laughed Silas, as the two animals shook their heads, eliciting that jingling sound again. "Now neither of you will lose a single dinar ever again. And how do you like the cart I made for you, Moeru? You won't have any difficulty getting across the desert on this thing." As if just noticing the whoremaster, he declared, "Oh, Little Whore! How long have you been standing there?"

Getting to his feet, the Horseman picked up his cloak. To Duncan's shock, Silas wrapped the cloak around his body. "It's rather nippy tonight," Silas remarked. "This will keep you nice and warm."

Rather than acknowledge the kind gesture, the concubine suddenly burst into tears, his whole body shaking as he wept. Moeru and Chester's eyes were wide with surprise.

"All right, all right! Come sit with me beside the fire, Little Whore," clucked Silas like a hen, pulling the distraught young Immortal along. As they sat down before the fire, he draped a muscular arm over his shoulder. "What's wrong? Why are you crying your eyes out again? You know, this is supposed to be a joyous occasion because you're finally free."

As his body hitched with the force of his sobs, Duncan stuttered, "No one wants me anymore!"

"Why do you say that? You know that I still want you very much."

Tear-filled sweet doe eyes gazed longingly at the Horseman. "Really, Master Silas? Does this mean that you'll make love to me?"

Silas would have responded in the positive. However, Moeru decided to lie down, laying his head on the Immortal's lap. His face was placed in a vantage position, with his nose and mouth breathing warm air on Silas' crotch. Chester, on the other hand, decided to curl up on Duncan's lap, pressing his tiny body on the whoremaster's loins like a fur-lined chastity belt.

Realizing that the two animals had definite plans of protecting the concubine's honor, Silas hastily stammered, "Now why would I want to do that?"

Duncan pouted, gesturing to the colt and the dachshund. "Your sudden change of heart... Does it have something to do with these two?"

"Maybe partly. I don't want to be emasculated by Mini Moe here." The Horseman sighed. "Seriously though, I don't want to be your accomplice in Methos' heartbreak."

"So you know."

"Why shouldn't I know? Duncan, I've known Methos for centuries, and there are only two occasions wherein I've seen him this upset. The first time was when he realized that the concubine he had fallen in love with happened to be the child he had abandoned twenty-five years ago. The second time was when said concubine, who has finally fulfilled his destiny of becoming a warrior, emerged from his tent, dressed like the slut he once was, ready to give himself to other men instead of the ancient Immortal whom he loved."

"Silas, I am leaving this region, and I doubt if I will ever see Ismail, Abdullah Bakkar or you again. I don't want to forget you. In the same way, I wanted to give you something special to remember me by."

"Do you think we could ever forget you, Little Whore?" Silas cupped the whoremaster's face in his hand. "You may think that you owe us something for giving you the encouragement and the support to fulfill your destiny, but you do not. It was by your own effort, your own courage that you became a warrior. And in doing so, Duncan, you have touched our lives, changed us all for the better. Now you ask us to bed you again? How could we accept your offer, knowing that this might rekindle old desires and lusts that should be left unsated? If you tempt us, not only will we bed you again and again and again, we will never let you go. You will never become Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. You will fall back into the life of miserable luxury that was once Little Whore's."

Duncan gasped at these words, fear suddenly filling his heart.

Seeing the fear reflected in those chocolate brown orbs once more, the Horseman declared, "But I won't take you up on your offer. I've heard that the Sultan and Abdullah rejected you as well. This is not a rejection of you as a brave and very beautiful human being. This is a rejection of the whore you once were and what you now want to become once more, even for just one night, as a pretense of a gift to ex-lovers. It is because we have too much respect for you, Duncan, that we combat the lusts that you arouse in us just by your mere presence alone. It is because we love you that we bid you to return to the one man who will not treat you like a whore."

For a long moment, the concubine looked into the Horseman's eyes. Throwing his arms around Silas' neck, he whispered, "I love you, Master Silas! Thank you oh so much for loving and caring for me!"

"And I love you too, Little Whore!" Silas laughed, wiping the tears from his own eyes. "What am I saying? You're not 'Little Whore' anymore!"

"It's just a pet name, Master Silas. Unlike Kronos and Caspian, you never treated me like a whore. I never begrudged your calling me that. It doesn't hurt to hear myself called that, especially when it came from your lips."

"But Duncan..."

"Please don't stop calling me 'Little Whore'. I don't want to forget who I once was, and especially all the wonderful people who have helped me change my life. People like you."

The Horseman nodded. "If that is your wish, but I don't want you to call me 'Master Silas' anymore. Just 'Silas' will do, or even 'Brother'." Winking, he added, "After all, you are now the Master of your own destiny."

"Yes, I know," Duncan beamed fondly at the older Immortal.

Silas then bade the concubine to stand up, a surprised Chester suddenly landing on top of Moeru. "Now go, Little Whore. It's time you went to he who is the Master of your heart."

Grinning, Duncan bent down and kissed Silas lovingly. Patting Moeru's and Chester's heads, he hurried back to the ancient's tent, his heart soaring like a majestic eagle in flight.

In his haste to be reunited with his beloved, Duncan didn't see Silas embrace the colt and the dachshund. "All's well that ends well, right my friends?"

To this, Moeru and Chester nodded in satisfaction, the gesture causing the coins inside their tiny pouches to jingle melodiously.

Contrary to what he had said earlier, the whoremaster found Methos inside the tent, waiting for him. There was a tug in his heart, seeing the tear-reddened eyes of the world's oldest Immortal. Those green gold orbs had lost their luster, staring at him with growing dread. Duncan suddenly found himself deathly afraid, fearing that the ancient might reject him as well.

As a tear trickled from his right eye, Duncan announced, "No man touched me, Methos. I swear no one has touched me."

"Even if someone had," Methos began hoarsely, "even if you had obeyed my wish not to return to your tent, I would've gone out to search for you and bring you back."

The ancient got to his feet, rushing toward the hesitant concubine. All qualms vanished from Duncan's heart, as strong arms enveloped him and a heated mouth captured his lips. Succumbing to Methos' passion, the whoremaster allowed the older man to lead him toward the pillows, groping fingers tearing at the fabric of each other's clothing to permit the contact of their bare skins.

Burying his fingers in Duncan's silken tresses, Methos gently pulled his head back, lavishing the younger man's beautiful face with hungry kisses. Duncan just as eagerly met those passionate caresses, boldly plundering the ancient's mouth with his tongue, tasting his inner depths. But Methos was not contented with just kissing that face. From those full luscious lips, his mouth trailed down to lick at the concubine's chin. Descending a bit more, his teeth nipped at the prominence of Duncan's throat, then opened his mouth in an "O" to seize the fruit that was lodged in the neck of this lovely son of Adam. Moaning, the whoremaster tilted his head to the right, giving Methos free rein to nibble at the hollow between his neck and shoulder. The ancient, however, all that his young lover had to offer.

A dreamy smile on his lips, Duncan let his upper body fall limp over a pillow that his chest was thrust enticingly a the older man. Licking a path on the whoremaster's breastbone, Methos' hands fondled those firm, rounded pectorals, fingers splayed that those ever tightening nubs of desire stood like points in the spaces in between. Taking those sweet nipples in his fingertips, he twisted and pulled on them, causing the concubine to move his body with fluid grace, like a writhing snake. But when he lowered his lips at last to a tit, Duncan cried out in wild abandon. Like a crushing python, the young man wrapped his arms and long legs around the ancient's body, drawing him so close that he could feed upon the nectar flowing in his breast. One after another, Methos tormented and nursed on Duncan's nipples, which eagerly spurted its milk inside his mouth.

The ancient felt a hard rod of silken iron prodding at his own erect member. Easing himself off the protesting concubine for a second, he opened his legs wide, knees on either side of the younger man's hips. Taking several deep breaths to relax his entire being, Methos impaled himself on that stiff member, sheathing it with his own scalding channel to the root. Surprised, Duncan bucked against this unfamiliar position of dominance. He was accustomed to being taken; this was totally new to him. For a split second, he hesitated, afraid that in his inexperience, he might hurt the older Immortal.

Sensing the reluctance in his beloved, Methos' hands tightened on Duncan's hips. With aching slowness, he worked his ass up and down that burgeoning erection. At the same time, the ancient moved his lover's hips in awkward jerks.

Realizing what Methos wanted him to do, Duncan began to thrust upward into the older man's body, at first, gingerly and with great care. But as the ancient's moves became frenetic, more insistent, the concubine knew that he could no longer hold back, lest he deprived both of them of the release they needed. Primal instincts governed them as they moved in unison. Such was the intensity of the friction of slick heat against the length of his hard, blood-engorged member that Duncan lost himself completely. With a ragged cry, he poured out his release into the body of his lover. He was about to take Methos' erection in his hand and give the ancient much needed respite from his pent-up passion. Instead, his fingers encountered an iron grip around that length. Instantly, the whoremaster knew what his lover truly needed.

Raising both legs, Duncan slung them over Methos' shoulder, spreading his thighs, so that his rosebud winked in invitation. The sight of that tiny opening was the only incentive that Methos required to bring their coupling to its rightful and total conclusion.

A scream of pain and ecstasy was torn from Duncan's throat as the ancient filled him with his formidable weapon. There was no hesitation now. As Methos thrust into him again and again, he bucked his hips against each ram of that blunt head upon his pleasure point. He thought he would black out from the intense sensations that were being elicited from him.

But then, a tiny white light twinkled before the concubine's eyes, steadily growing brighter and brighter. For a brief instant, he saw puffy clouds with golden spires erected on top of them. Standing before one of those magnificent towers were Mithras and Devi Mari. Duncan smiled gloriously, beholding his loving mentors waving to him. The vision gradually faded away, replaced by a dazzling array of colors, both known and many he had never seen before, as the peak was attained. With a pleased sigh, he felt Methos' seed gush inside his channel, filling him with its slick warmth.

Still, the two Immortals have not had enough.

After hour upon hour of bliss, the dawn saw Duncan with his head cradled on Methos' chest. The ancient was hugging the younger man tightly, his fingertips playing with the silky strands of his lover's hair. Both were still flushed from their intense coupling, as they basked in the afterglow of love requited and fulfilled.

"Methos?"

"Yes, Duncan?"

"Do you know, that for a moment, I thought I saw Mithras and Devi Mari?"

"You weren't dreaming, Little Prince. I saw them too."

"That was Heaven, wasn't it? We reached nirvana."

Methos kissed Duncan on the forehead. "And we shall go there -- again and again and again. For as long as we are together. For as long as we both shall live. You and I shall bring Heaven here on Earth."

 

In the days that followed, the soldiers and bandits made the trek across the Sahara, but none of them felt a single day's weariness. After all, having emerged victorious from an infernal battle everyone believed they would not win, they were at last returning home.

Methos, however, was oblivious to the elation of the people around him. His greatest concern was the beautiful young Immortal he made love to night after night and at every opportunity during the day.

Although Duncan matched his passion with equal, insatiable ardor, the ancient sensed the increasing restlessness in his lover with each passing day. There were times when the concubine would shy away from any attempts at conversation and would ride off, ahead of the caravan, simply to be alone and to brood. There wasn't any doubt in Methos' mind that Duncan wanted to go back to Scotland, but fear of his father who had banished him threatened to overwhelm that heartfelt wish.

And then there was the matter of his Immortality. Methos was well aware that his beloved had been talking to Silas and Khassim about their lives as eternal beings. Peace-loving by nature, the ancient knew that Duncan balked at the idea of spending eternity, taking heads and Quickenings. But the one thing that weighed heavily on his mind was the fact that, one day, he would inevitably be forced to part with the Immortal he loved. It would be necessary for him to do so, if he were to grow as an Immortal. It was a prospect neither one wanted to face. Duncan couldn't imagine going through life without the ancient. As for Methos, to live without the light and love of the concubine would be a most unbearable curse.

One night, unable to sleep, the ancient decided to take a stroll around the stillness of the camp. As he expected, he found Duncan standing on top of the tallest sand dune. The sight the concubine made was breathtaking -- a beautiful, solemn figure dressed in a flowing caftan, his long hair fluttering in the desert breeze. His image was captured in the silver disk of the full moon, like a daguerreotype. So like a statue, his Highlander was. A moment in time locked in the permanence of memory. There was only one way to bring his Scottish Galatea back to life.

"Duncan?" Methos called out to his beloved, allowing the wind to carry his soft voice over to that stoic figure standing at the dune's peak.

As Duncan turned around, a sad smile of love and intense longing formed on his luscious lips, seeing his beloved waiting for him below. Same as before, the concubine leaped from the dune and floated down, like an angel come from the Heavens. As he landed, the ancient took him into his arms, embracing him tightly.

_I'll never let you go, __Duncan__,_ Methos promised inside his mind, as tears welled up in his eyes. _I swear I'll never let you go._

 

It was still several hours till dawn at the Tademait Plateau. The camp had fallen into blissful slumber after a night long feast at the bandit's domain. None of the members of the caravan noticed the silent departure of the young man in bedouin traveling clothes, leading his horse laden with supplies.

After negotiating their way through the craggy paths of the plateau itself, Duncan and Denko finally reached the other side. For a moment, the concubine paused as he stared at the majestic height of the Tademait. Biting down on his lower lip, he found himself regretting not being able to say goodbye to his dear friends. Especially Methos. But he had to leave now. The more and more he stayed, the greater his resolve to leave for his homeland wavered. Only one knew of his impending departure, and Silas was adamant against his leaving them so soon. Thankfully, the Horseman was open to reason and he himself helped him prepare the supplies he would need for his trek through the desert. It nearly broke his heart to ask Silas to care for his dearest pet, Moeru. Same as Methos, he didn't want to leave his precious colt, as well as the mischievous dachshund who had become his ally.

Duncan shook his head, hoping to stop the tears that were threatening to rise up from his throat. He must go now. If he didn't, he would just find himself trudging back to camp.

But then, there was the sound of jingling in the air. The whoremaster's sweet doe eyes widened in surprise, as Methos emerged from behind the rocks, riding Thanatos. There were similar packs slung on the stallion's saddle. Fitted as well were ropes attached to a tiny cart behind him.

"Methos?" The ancient's name was all he could bring himself to say.

"You're not leaving without us, are you, Duncan?" Methos asked suspiciously, but with good cheer.

Duncan just found himself bursting into laughter as the heads of Moeru and Chester popped up from the cart. The two animals were nodding in agreement with the ancient's query, causing the coin pouches around their neck to jingle.

Tilting his head to the side, the whoremaster queried, "Won't Ismail be angry that you have stolen his dog?"

"Actually, the Sultan insisted that I take Chester along with me," the ancient said, grinning. Scratching his head, he added, "Ismail said that he wouldn't dream of letting Chester be parted from his good friend Moeru. But I think he just wanted to get rid of him." Methos then turned somber. "What about you, Duncan? Do you want to be parted from us forever? Just one word, and we'll go back to the camp."

The tears that Duncan tried so hard to hold began to pour from his eyes. "You know that it's going to be difficult for us. My kinsmen don't look too kindly upon two men who have a relationship."

Methos shrugged. "Well then, perhaps we could show them what it's like to be truly in love. No shame, Duncan. Wherever you go, I shall follow. And to hell with those who would dare drive us apart, even if he were your father, the Lord of the Keep."

For a moment, there was only silence between them. Then, smiling, Duncan raised his right hand to the ancient. Urging Thanatos toward the concubine, Methos took that offered hand. Together, they faced the light of the horizon, and the unknown that was waiting for them in Scotland.

 

 

**TO BE CONTINUED IN _LOVE'S FIERY TEMPEST STORY ARC 4: HOMECOMING_**


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